A Written Penance
by Blue Kat
Summary: The Supreme Guardian of Fan Fiction sends Jane, a 23 year old graduate student, into her own fic in order to turn Aria Nightingale, a Mary Sue that Jane unintentionally created, into a decent character.
1. Charged and Convicted

**Disclaimer:** _Lord of the Rings_ mostly belongs to Tolkien and other bits and pieces belong to Peter Jackson. I'm merely borrowing some of their characters for a bit of fun and I promise I'll put them back nice and neat when I'm done.

**Author's Note: **I know—I have no business starting a new fic when I've got so many others to work on. However, a plot bunny bit me today; hence this fic. You can't just _ignore_ plot bunnies…Anyhow, the usual rules for reviewing apply—that is, feel free to give constructive criticism and feedback and such, but please express your opinion in a civil manner. I don't shy away from constructive criticism, but flaming is rather pointless (though I suppose it works if your goal is to make me laugh).

* * *

**A Written Penance**

**By Blue Kat**

_Chapter One: Charged and Convicted_

It was Gabby's fault, of course. Jane would never have gotten into this situation without Gabby's involvement. Gabby accepted the blame with a shrug; after all, it really wasn't a big deal.

Not yet, anyway.

It was all very well for Gabby, of course—she had more experience and was able to resist temptation more often than not. Jane, on the other hand, found that her normally rigid sense of self-control had dwindled drastically (again, Gabby's fault). If it hadn't been for Gabby, Jane would never have known about it at all and the entire situation wouldn't even be an issue.

The situation in question is rather simple—a natural curiosity that developed into an interest and then something akin to addiction, though Jane would never admit that it had reached that point.

"It's just a hobby," she often rationalized to both herself and her critics.

"Yeah, a hobby that's taking up most of your waking hours," said the sensible part of her brain. Luckily for her, she had developed the ability to ignore such comments—usually with the help of her new hobby.

The hobby in question is neither destructive nor unhealthy, as the tone of this narrative might suggest. At times, it could prove to be an inconvenience, as it had a bit of an addictive quality that Jane couldn't quite ignore. It was intriguing and inspiring, amusing and addictive, and really quite fun.

It was fan fiction.

* * *

It started with a simple link.

"You _have_ to read this," Gabby's email had said. "I know you're not really into this kind of stuff, but this is an absolute _riot_."

Jane, having nothing else to do, clicked on the link and was immediately swept into a side-splittingly funny _Star Wars_ parody. She had to admit that she sort of liked it and thought perhaps there was a point to Gabby's seemingly obscure interest in fan fiction. Out of curiosity, she typed 'fan fiction' into her search engine. She was immediately bombarded by a plethora of websites devoted to not only _Star Wars_ fan fiction, but all kinds of fan fiction. _Harry Potter_, _ER_, _Spongebob Squarepants_, _Forrest Gump_, _Gilmore Girls_, _To Kill A Mockingbird_, and (surprisingly) _Teletubbies_—everything seemed to have a fan fiction following.

After following a few random links and reading a few assorted stories, Jane stumbled into a section she would soon find herself spending most of her time in. She had meant to click on the _Lord of the Flies_ link, but mistakenly clicked on _Lord of the Rings_. She thought she might as well give it a try—she had seen the movies and read one of the books and liked them well enough to have a minor interest in the trilogy. After all, she was only going to read for twenty minutes or so—she might as well read a section she was slightly familiar with.

Three and a half hours, five Oreos, half a bag of chips, a bag of Sour Patch Kids, seven carrots, and a glass of water later, she was hooked.

Additionally, she was more or less out of food.

* * *

"I don't know why it's so damn _addictive_," she said to Gabby on the phone the next morning as she made up a grocery list. "I was on the computer for well over three hours—I _never_ do that."

"It's strange like that," Gabby replied. "You only plan to read a chapter or two, and then it turns into a fic or two, then two or three, then three or four. And then, of course, you want to write one of your own."

"Write one…" Jane mused thoughtfully. "There's a thought."

"It's a ceaseless cycle," remarked Gabby.

Jane couldn't ignore the fact that she wanted to write a fic. The idea had begun nagging at her several days after her first reading. At first, it was just a sketch of a character and a breath of a plot; nothing significant. However, the idea soon became wedged in her brain and she often found herself mulling over phantom chapters. Reading fan fiction didn't quell her urge to write—it only gave fuel to the narrative that swarmed through her thoughts.

The writing started one dreary Saturday afternoon a week or so later. The rain drizzled against the apartment's small windows and there was a leak in the living room ceiling. Jane had called the landlord earlier to inform him of the problem—he simply advised that she put a bucket under it and deal with it until the plumber fixed the faulty toilet in 3A.

Irritated and bored, Jane paced lazily throughout her apartment, idly shuffling through her belongings, looking to see if something needed her immediate attention. Her computer hummed quietly in the corner, the screen flickering slightly. She frowned and looked at the machine, seemingly puzzled. After a moment or two, she quietly approached the computer and sat down, staring at the screen.

"I suppose I might as well," she said to herself. She opened the word processor and began to type.

It was slow at first—she had a bit of trouble with the introduction—but as she continued, her keystrokes slowly became quicker and her words more certain. The words themselves seemed to fly through her fingertips faster than she could type, every phrase, every sentence demanding to be written all at once. It was a rush; it was invigorating.

It was _fun_.

At five o'clock she scrolled through the document, realizing that she had written well over ten pages. She felt a great sense of accomplishment and her previous doubts seemed unfounded. Smiling contentedly, she hit 'Save' and shut down her computer.

The file sat in her computer for several days, drifting into her thoughts more often than not. She opened it from time to time and read through it, making the necessary adjustments and fixing the occasional typo. Overall, she thought it was pretty good, and she gradually began to entertain the idea of posting the story.

* * *

"You wrote one?" inquired Gabby over the telephone.

"Yeah…_Lord of the Rings_," Jane replied. "It's over ten pages." She added this rather proudly—she'd never thought she'd be able to write that much.

"Really? Are you going to post it, then?"

"I don't know," admitted Jane. "I'm not sure if it's something I'd want to post—I'm not sure how it will be received. I'd hate to work really hard on something and then have people tell me it sucks, you know? It kind of undermines the entire endeavor."

"I'll read it, if you want," offered Gabby. "Sometimes it helps, you know, to have someone read it before you post. It helps work out minor details and typos before you give it up to the public domain."

"We-ell…" said Jane, chewing thoughtfully on her lip, "you have to promise not to laugh—but I don't want you to sugarcoat it for me, either. You have to tell me what you really, truly, and honestly think, even if it's the most horrible thing you've ever read."

"Do you honestly think I'd let you post something horrible and leave you open to public ridicule?" asked Gabby.

"Winter Formal sophomore year you neglected to inform me that I had broccoli stuck in my teeth until _after_ the last dance," stated Jane, twirling the telephone cord around her finger. "It's no wonder Brad didn't try to kiss me."

"Come on, he asked you out anyway," argued Gabby.

"Yeah…it only took him until senior year to actually do it."

"He wasn't that good looking anyway," said Gabby, laughing. "But I've got to go—email me your fic and I'll give you my honest opinion."

* * *

"So, I read your chapter," said Gabby on the phone the next day.

"Really?" asked Jane, eagerly. "What did you think? Honestly, I mean."

Gabby flinched. This wasn't making it any easier.

"Well," she began, "it was pretty good…you have some really good description."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No, I really liked your description of Rivendell. It was really eloquent…"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," Gabby replied, "I also liked the whole part by the fountain—you had a lot of really good imagery."

"What about the character? What did you think of her?" asked Jane.

Gabby flinched again—this was the question she had been dreading.

"And your vocabulary was really great," she continued, as if she hadn't heard Jane. "And I didn't see any typos either…"

"But what about the character?"

"Oh, your description of her was really good, too. I got a really clear picture of her—"

"No, no, I mean, what did you think of her as a _character_. Her characterization and all that," Jane clarified.

Gabby gulped.

"Er—well…"

Life is full of beneficial and detrimental coincidences; in Gabby's case, it was a rather lucky coincidence that at that exact moment, Jane's call-waiting beeped. It was also incredibly lucky for Gabby that the person on the other line happened to be Jane's mother, a woman well-known for her ability to make a two-minute conversation a thirty-minute ordeal.

Jane looked at the Caller ID and sighed.

"Gabby, my mom's on the other line."

Gabby mouthed a silent 'thank you' toward the ceiling.

"Oh…darn…" she said into the phone, trying to sound genuine. "I'll—er—call me later, then."

"Okay—then you can finish telling me what you—"

"Oh! Someone's at the door!" lied Gabby. "Ibettergetthatgottagobye!"

She hung up the phone before Jane had a chance to reply. She breathed a quick sigh of relief and plopped down on the sofa, contemplating how exactly she was going to tell her friend that her character was a blatant Mary Sue.

* * *

Jane, on the other hand, was not as preoccupied as Gabby (although talking with her mother always left her somewhat drained). Luckily for her (not so much for Gabby), her mother was in a bit of a hurry and had to cut their conversation short after about an hour or so. Jane called Gabby shortly after she hung up with her mother, but Gabby's answering machine picked up, leaving Jane without further feedback.

Frustrated and somewhat antsy, Jane sat down at the computer, and opened up her file. She read through it a couple times, her opinion of the chapter somewhat strengthened by Gabby's earlier praise. She called Gabby after her fourth or fifth reading.

No answer.

She reread the chapter again and fiddled with a few sentences. She checked her email and deleted three pieces of junk mail from three different people who wanted to increase her manhood and another from an individual who was very interested in the stability of her bank account and needed her account numbers immediately. She replied to two others—one from her mother and another from her cousin. She reread the chapter twice. She called Gabby again.

No answer.

Jane stared at the computer screen for a moment. She felt strange admitting it, but she really wanted to post her story. Sure, she and Gabby hadn't really talked about the entire chapter, but Gabby's general opinion seemed to be positive and that had really boosted Jane's overall confidence.

After a moment's pause, she typed in the address of her favorite fan fiction site and signed in. She hesitantly clicked on the 'new story' button and spent several minutes filling out the pertinent information. The 'Submit' button loomed tantalizingly on the screen.

"C'mon…" it seemed to say "click me. You know you want to."

Jane blinked and shook her head.

"Perhaps I ought to cut back on the Sour Patch Kids," she thought, noting the empty bag that formerly held a lot of sugary-sour goodness.

She stared at the 'Submit' button for a few more minutes before tentatively moving her mouse.

"Click," went the mouse.

* * *

At that very moment, Jane Baker disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke.

The next thing Jane saw after clicking the 'Submit' button was total darkness. She was sprawled rather inelegantly on the ground, but she wasn't quite sure how she got there. She certainly hadn't put herself there and she hadn't fallen—or, she admitted, at least as far as she knew. She rubbed her eyes, as though it would make a difference in her perception of the world.

She opened her eyes.

It hadn't.

She was somewhat bewildered, to say the very least. After all, she was sitting alone in a very dark room on the floor with no recollection as to how she ended up on the floor or how the room got to be so dark.

She placed her palms flat against the floor in an attempt to raise herself. The tiles felt cool and slippery against her palms.

She froze.

There were no tiled floors in her apartment.

This revelation was more shocking than the realization that she was on the floor. She tried to take a calming breath to quell her growing sense of panic. It came out as more of a breathy whimper. She didn't know where she was or how she got there. And 'there' was pitch black, tiled, and definitely not her apartment.

Jane was precisely two seconds away from screaming when something flickered at the corner of her eye. A long wisp of fog rolled lazily across the floor, seemingly unaware of the panicked young woman. As if that single strand were a cue, other long and smoky tendrils began to form in random clusters. The darkness seemed to lift a little as the fog grew, which brought Jane some comfort.

The fog slowly began to move in bigger clusters, slowly covering the floor in a thick white blanket. Jane stood up and the fog swirled around her ankles. It was becoming progressively lighter and Jane was able to see more clearly. The tiled floor beneath her feet was colored in beautiful swirls of hundreds of shades of blues and greens, with an occasional spot of yellow. It reminded her of Van Gogh's _Starry Night_—her favorite painting. Her father had bought her a framed poster for her eleventh birthday and had hung it in her room, just above her bookcase. The swirling colors on the floor brought her a sense of comfort in a frighteningly unfamiliar place.

The tiles extended in every direction, ending only at the line on the horizon, and Jane suspected that they went beyond that. She felt it was all too fantastic to be real—this tiled landscape could not be something of the earth she was familiar with—in all likelihood, it was probably a dream. She dug her fingernails into her palms, expecting such an action to wake her and bring her back to reality.

Nothing happened.

She stared at the crescent red marks on her palms. She was frightened to admit it, but everything appeared to be _very_ real.

"Where _am_ I?" she whispered.

"Here. There. Everywhere," a voice replied.

She spun around, startled, her heart pumping in her chest. An old man with white hair and kind grey eyes was walking toward her, the fog swishing around his ankles. He wore a white suit, a white bowler hat, and white wingtips that clicked merrily against the floor. He tipped his hat at Jane, who stared at him, open mouthed.

"Wh-wh-who are you?" she managed to sputter after a moment of inarticulate garble.

"Me?" he asked with a smile. "I am the Supreme Guardian of All Fictitious Fiction about Original Fiction." The title made Jane's head spin. "But you may call me Roger."

"I'm Jane," she replied, somewhat dazed.

"I know—I've been expecting you, Jane Baker," he replied with a wink.

"Wait a minute," said Jane, rubbing her temples. "This is all too weird. I'm still struggling with the fact that this place is _real_."

"Oh, it's quite real, my dear," replied Roger. "Although we mostly deal with fiction, everything here is very real." He chuckled to himself.

"Where is 'here,' exactly?" asked Jane.

"This," said Roger, making a sweeping gesture with his hand, "is my office. When I was promoted, I told management I wanted a lot of space and that I didn't want to feel walled in—they took it a bit too literally. Of course, what do you expect? We are a _literary_ organization." He chuckled to himself again.

"Why am I here, then?" asked Jane, rather confused by the strange old man.

"Existentially?" replied Roger.

"No, I mean in your office," said Jane. "I don't know how you know my name, why I'm here instead of home, and what your…department has to do with me."

"Ah! Precisely what I was going to tell you!" exclaimed Roger. "Let's sit down, shall we?" He gestured to a desk and two chairs Jane had not noticed before. The more she thought about it, the more she began to believe that the desk and chairs were not actually _there_ when she last looked.

All this distortion of reality was giving her a headache.

"Have a seat, have a seat," said Roger, ushering her into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Jane sat down and Roger took the remaining chair, placing his hat on a box marked 'Book Crooks.'

"Now, Ms. Baker," he said, removing a manila envelope and a pair of reading glasses from a drawer, "you and I are going to have a chat about _Nightingales Sing Arias_."

Jane's mouth dropped open.

"How did you know about that?" she sputtered after a moment.

Roger chuckled.

"How could I not know about it? I'm the Supreme Guardian of Fictitious Fiction about Original Fiction!"

Jane stared at him blankly, still somewhat shocked. Roger's eyes twinkled.

"Or, more simply, the Supreme Guardian of Fan Fiction."

It was a few minutes before Jane could say anything.

"You're…the Guardian of…Fan Fiction?" she repeated.

"Precisely, my dear. I monitor, guard, and manage the entire world of fan fiction. All sections, all genres—they're all my responsibility," said Roger. "It's a wonderful job—and to think I almost went into business!"

"So…why do you need to talk to me?" asked Jane.

"We'll get to that in a minute—I'd like to talk about _Nightingales Sing Arias_ first."

Jane nodded, too bewildered to question Roger any further.

"Now, myself and a panel of judges have reviewed your first chapter," explained Roger, removing several sheets of paper from the manila envelope. "We review all fan fiction after the moment the story is submitted. As a general rule, we don't publicize these findings, or allow the authors to see them—though some of the more mischievous judges will sometimes place an anonymous review. This process is kept to ensure the overall stability of fan fiction. It also helps me monitor fan fiction as a whole." Roger placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose and squinted down at the paper. "Now, the review is comprised of six sections. The first section is Grammar, Spelling, and Overall Mechanics. The Review Board feels that this category is one of the most important parts of what we call 'good' fan fiction—after all, brilliant ideas don't seem as brilliant when they're incomprehensible."

Jane bit her lip nervously. This was all rather intense for fan fiction.

"Don't look so worried, Jane," said Roger. "You did very well here. The Grammar, Spelling, and Overall Mechanics score is a twenty point scale; your score was nineteen and a half out of twenty, though that half-point was disputed." Roger looked irritated. "Sergeant Simile thought you had a comma out of place somewhere on the third page, but the rest of the panel thought it was acceptable. You can't go changing the Sarge's mind though—he's as stubborn as mule when it comes to punctuation—so we deducted half a point.

"The next section is Vocabulary. Your score on this section indicates the quality of your overall vocabulary used in your chapter and whether or not you used the words correctly. Vocabulary is a twenty-five point scale—your score was a twenty-five. Madame Malaprop was very impressed."

"Oh," replied Jane. "Er…well, thanks."

"You also did very well on Description, earning thirty points out of thirty. In Canon Accuracy—that is, how well canon characters and places are written and described and how true they are to their original nature—you earned twenty out of twenty-five. The panel suggests you review several passages marked in your manuscript.

"Now…these next two sections were…not your best," said Roger, looking at Jane over the rims of his spectacles. "On the Original Character section, we ran your character through a litmus test. Your score was a fifty-two—meaning your character is a full-fledged Mary Sue."

Jane looked at Roger blankly.

"Well…what do normal characters score?" she asked, having only a vague idea of what the 'Mary Sue' assessment meant.

"The range for normal characters is usually between zero and fifteen," said Roger.

Jane blinked, somewhat taken aback. She hadn't done well at _all_.

"Okay…well…this is going to sound stupid, but what does that mean?" asked Jane.

"Mary Sue is a term used for a kind of character reviewers will describe as a cliché," explained Roger, folding his hands on top of his desk. "She often is described as the perfect character—she is usually physically attractive and adored by all the main canon characters (in both platonic and romantic senses). Some authors are able to write wonderful stories using such characters, but more often than not, the clichés of the character manage to make their way into the plot and the story as whole becomes…well, unbelievable."

"A cliché?" questioned Jane, somewhat taken aback. "I thought that there was some original stuff in there…"

Roger chuckled good-naturedly.

"A common mistake in most new authors—we did find some original traits, but they were often overshadowed by elements of cliché," he explained.

"Oh," said Jane, feeling somewhat hurt—she had worked hard, after all.

"However, we will discuss this more in a moment," continued Roger. "The final section is the Plot. Your score in this section is based on the plot's originality, creativity, and overall believability. Your score on this section was a three."

"Three?" repeated Jane, somewhat dismayed. "Out of what? Ten?"

"Fifty," clarified Roger.

"_Fifty_!"

"Yes. Now, I know you must be a little upset," said Roger, patting Jane on the hands.

"Well, of course I am!" sputtered Jane. "First you take me to this…place and scare me out of my mind. Then you tell me that my story has absolutely no creative merit whatsoever! I think I have every right to be upset!"

"Now, Jane, calm down and I will explain everything," soothed Roger, removing a small box from his desk. "Truffle?" he asked, extending the box toward Jane.

"No, thank you," she muttered darkly.

"Suit yourself," said Roger, popping two into his mouth. "Now," he said through a mouth full of chocolate and nougat, "your score on the Plot section is not reflective of your skill as a writer. The panel feels that you have a great potential."

"Gee, thanks," she replied sarcastically.

"Your score," continued Roger, ignoring or not catching her sarcasm, "is reflective of two factors, the first being your character. Poor plot is often a side effect the presence of a Mary Sue." He paused to dab the corners of his mouth with a white handkerchief. "The second factor is that, by our count, you are the millionth person to write this story."

Jane paused for a second.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean," said Roger, "that you are the one millionth person to use this plot, this setting, and this character. Granted, there are some minor differences between your story and the nine hundred thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine others, but the general idea is all the same. So it's technically not your fault."

"Then why am I here?" demanded Jane.

"The panel feels that the phenomena of similar characters, plotlines, etcetera, has become a problem for the fan fiction world at large," explained Roger. "We decided that the millionth person to use the Elrond's-adoptive-rebellious-but-sweet-and-attractive-elf-daughter-with-the-voice-of-an-angel plotline would be brought here and charged with a task."

"_What_?" exclaimed Jane indignantly.

"It's in the Rules," stated Roger. "The Cliché Clause, page two thousand and twelve, section 758#GR, paragraph two: it is the will of the panel that the millionth person to use—"

"All right! It's in the rules!" snapped Jane, feeling more irritated by the minute. "But I don't see _why_."

"It is our mission," explained Roger, "to better the world of fan fiction. The rampant use of clichés has caused the panel as well as the readers of fan fiction great distress. Our intent for this task is to achieve greater quality of fan fiction through character and plot development."

"That's all very well and good," said Jane, "but I don't know how you'll get that done."

"That's where you come in," replied Roger. "Your task, Jane, is to develop your character and your plotline."

There was a pause.

"So…I just have to write a better character?" asked Jane.

"Oh heavens no!" exclaimed Roger with a hearty chuckle. "That would be _too_ easy. No, you must go into your fan fiction with your character and develop her from _there_."

"_What_?" exclaimed Jane for the second time that evening. "That's impossible! You can't just enter fan fiction!"

"Anything is possible, Jane," said Roger with a wink.

"How am I supposed to do this? I can't just _disappear_—my family and friends will be worried sick, I've got a job, I've got rent to pay…"

"That has been taken care of," said Roger, waving his hand dismissively. "Your family and friends all think that you're on an extended vacation in Bermuda. The panel will take care of your rent. You will also be outfitted with the proper clothing and other such essentials."

"But…but…" protested Jane.

"There are two rules," interrupted Roger. "The first is this: only your character may know who you are, but she may not know your purpose. Secondly, try not to meddle with the plot _too_ much. Some things can be changed (after all, it _is _fan fiction), but readership dwindles if you start changing things too drastically. I once read a story where the author gave Frodo the ability to change into a telepathic golden retriever and he had to destroy the Biscuit of Power and the Magic Toast of Kettleland. Dreadful story—and it wasn't even a parody!"

"I never agreed to any of this!" exclaimed Jane.

"Jane, this is something that is out of your hands. You have no choice in this matter," stated Roger. "Now, you're due to arrive in Middle-earth in," he looked at his watch, "thirty seconds. Your character, Aria, is expecting you. You're scheduled you to arrive a day or so before the Council of Elrond. Remember your rules and your mission. Good luck!"

"But I don't even know how to—"

"When in doubt, develop!" advised Roger.

"But—"

And for the second time that day, Jane Baker disappeared into a cloud of blue smoke.

* * *

A/N: Just to clarify—I have nothing against Mary Sues. I just get strange ideas fairly frequently. Anyhow—review and tell me what you think! 


	2. Meet Aria Nightingale

**Disclaimer:** I seem to have misplaced the clever disclaimer for this chapter. Oh well—I still don't own _Lord of the Rings_ or anything else of great literary value.

**A/N: **Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far—you are all so sweet! They definitely made my day. Freakishworm expressed a concern I'd like to address: I have absolutely no intention of writing Jane as a Mary Sue and having her overthrow Aria by utilizing her own powers of Mary Sue-ness. Then I'd have to rename this _Sue Wars: Episode I: The Spawn of Sue_. It's definitely a legitimate concern that I neglected to address earlier, so thanks a lot for reminding me!

* * *

_Chapter Two: Meet Aria Nightingale_

Unfortunately for Jane, her second journey through the blue smoke was not as gentle as the first. She turned and twisted in a spinning vortex of light, color, and sound, her stomach feeling more and more unsettled with every passing moment. Overall, she found it a highly disagreeable method of travel, but having very little options available, she simply clutched her elbows tightly and squeezed her eyes shut as she spun about, trying very hard not to be sick.

It stopped as suddenly as it began. After a moment, Jane tentatively opened her eyes to find herself standing on solid ground.

Her first reaction, of course, would have been to scream—after all, she had just been unwillingly flung through several dimensions after being criticized by an old man. In this case, a scream would have been well justified.

However, the room where she found herself was not the kind of room where one screamed. It was a genteel and refined room that seemed to require residents of good breeding. It was a room of fine silk dresses, quiet conversation, and lace doilies; it was certainly not a room where people shouted.

Also, she was still feeling rather ill at the moment and didn't think it would be wise to open her mouth.

Several seconds later, she was tempted to scream again as a certain realization set in.

She was standing in one of the rooms featured in her story.

She was naturally a bit bewildered but she was also curious. This was something that had only existed in her imagination—to see it as both solid and undeniably real was staggering. She looked quietly around her. Gauzy curtains swayed as a breeze swept in from one of the many open balconies and carved white arches. The bed was precisely how she had pictured it; soft lavender covers with gold embroidery, plush pillows, and white bed hangings. A graceful vanity table was placed next to the bed, a set of silver combs lined up neatly on its glossy surface.

She turned and was startled to find herself staring back from a long mirror. She was even more startled when she realized that she was not wearing the same clothes she was wearing when she left Roger's office. Her favorite jeans and faded green sweater had been replaced by a dark grey, ankle length dress. It was made of a strong and soft muslin fabric that felt light and cool against her skin. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and the cut of the dress was rather plain and not exactly flattering. An apron of a lighter grey was tied snugly around her waist.

It certainly wasn't a fashion statement.

Jane stared at the mirror in disbelief. She had just been dumped in a world relatively unfamiliar to her and she was dressed as a servant.

"I'm going to kill Roger," she thought to herself.

She would have glowered at the mirror longer if she hadn't been interrupted by someone discreetly clearing their throat.

Jane turned toward the door and jumped slightly when she saw an extraordinarily beautiful dark-haired woman standing in the doorway. Although her beauty was striking, Jane was more surprised by the fact that this was a woman who had formerly been a mere product of Jane's imagination. The room itself had been rather shocking, but to see a fictional person in the flesh was quite a different experience altogether.

"You must be Jane," the woman greeted, her voice rich and melodious, a pleasing sound that rang gently throughout the room. "I am Aria Nightingale," she added, though Jane knew her without the introduction.

Jane and Aria were truly a study in contrasts. While Jane's hair was barely shoulder length, stick-straight, and strawberry blonde, Aria's hair fell halfway down her back in soft curls of a dark chocolate hue. Jane's eyes were a sharp, inquisitive green; Aria's were hazel and often changed color with her mood. Jane boasted a few freckles across her ski-jump nose and a small white scar on her chin; Aria's skin was fair and practically flawless. Aria wore a dress that more or less matched the color of her eyes; Jane's dress didn't really match anything in particular. Aria was regal, poised, and tall; Jane was dazed, shocked, and of medium height.

Aria was also an Elf whereas Jane was human and feeling increasingly plainer by the minute.

"I apologize for the dress," continued Aria as Jane fiddled with the hem of her apron, "but Mr. Morton thought it would be best if you didn't attract too much attention."

"You mean Roger?" Jane asked.

"Er—yes. Oh, but forgive me! I'm being so rude!" said Aria. "You must be tired—traveling from one world to the next and all. Do have a seat." She gestured to two delicate chairs on the balcony. "I have something for you as well—I'll be just a moment."

Jane nodded and situated herself out on the balcony as Aria gracefully trotted into an adjoining room. The view from the balcony was spectacular—Jane was well aware of what Rivendell looked like, but to actually _see_ it was an experience she was not prepared for. The valley sprawled lazily in every visible direction, the foliage rich and green with life. She could see several waterfalls spilling out of crevices in the cliff, each more spectacular than the last. It was the epitome of the natural world, a place that exuded peace and quiet.

"Perhaps," Jane thought, "this isn't as bad as I made it out to be."

"Lovely, isn't it?" remarked Aria as she entered the balcony, a small wooden box in her slender hands.

"It's beautiful," agreed Jane.

"It's a wonderful home," murmured Aria. "I would hate to leave it—I've never lived anywhere else." She paused for a moment, her eyes dark and sad. She blinked back a tear and tried to hide the action with a soft smile. "But this is yours—Mr. Morton said I was to give it to you upon your arrival." She handed the heavy box to Jane.

"Oh…thank you," replied Jane, accepting the box.

"Such a lovely gentleman," said Aria, smiling fondly. "But how I do prattle on! You are tired and need to rest without me chattering at you. Mr. Morton wanted you to look at the contents of the box alone, so I will leave you now. You will find the key around your neck."

Jane placed a hand to her throat and was surprised to find a small key hanging on a fine silver chain.

"I will return in a half an hour's time—you may sit out here or move about the room as you wish," said Aria. "Farewell!"

"Goodbye," said Jane as the Elf glided gracefully off the balcony and out the door of her room.

Jane regarded the box pensively. It was a dark mahogany and devoid of any design or carvings. She carefully unclasped the chain and fitted the key into the lock. It opened with a quiet 'click'.

Inside she found a white envelope with 'Jane Baker' printed neatly on the front. She flipped it over. The seal had the letters 'SGOFF' engraved in a beautiful calligraphy. She rolled her eyes, broke the seal, and removed the letter.

It read:

_Dear Miss Baker,_

_By now you will find yourself in the realm of Middle-earth. You are very lucky to have this wonderful experience—there are many who would give anything for a mere five minutes in Middle-earth! _

_I have spoken with Aria—I informed her that a visitor would be arriving from a different world to accomplish a very important mission. Naturally, what with the recent hullabaloo, she assumed I was talking about the Ring and didn't ask too many questions. _

_This letter will outline a few specifics of your mission (just a few, mind you—wouldn't want to make it too__easy, now!) and it is **EXTREMELY IMPORTANT** that the letter is destroyed entirely. This is not something that should fall into the wrong hands—it would upset things greatly. _

_While I did tell you that you only have one basic objective, there are several things that must happen in order for your main objective to occur (it fits in with the Nature of the Narrative Clause in the Rules—but I won't bore you with that). Unfortunately, I couldn't reschedule your travel time—otherwise I would have been more specific._

_While Aria must be developed into a good character, all of the following conditions must be met in order for her character development to occur:_

_--She must be in the Fellowship of the Ring (you will be expected to accompany her, of course. This will probably occur naturally, given Aria's…spirit)._

_--She must fall in love—more importantly she must fall in love with the right person._

_--When the Fellowship breaks, she must travel with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. _

_--She must sing no more than two times during the course of the story (preferably not at all)._

_It is imperative that these conditions are fulfilled—otherwise, I imagine you'll find your task more difficult than it should be._

_Enclosed in this box are several things you might find useful. The panel and I wish you the best of luck._

_Remember: this letter must be destroyed!_

_Fondly,_

_Roger Morton_

_Supreme Guardian of All Fictitious Fiction about Original Fiction (Fan Fiction)_

Jane placed the letter in her lap and carefully examined the contents of the box. She found a large, folded piece of parchment which opened up to reveal a detailed map of Middle-earth. She examined it for a moment, tracing her fingers gently along rivers and mountain ranges before refolding it and returning it to the box. The next item—a small silver dagger encased in a simple leather sheath—had been placed neatly at the very bottom of the box. Jane unsheathed the dagger, noted that the blade looked dangerously sharp, and returned it to its sheath without further examination.

The last item was a soft leather bag that shut with a brass clasp. Inside, she found a pair of nail scissors, an emery board, a comb and a brush with 'J. B.' engraved in simple script on the handles, a larger pair of scissors (presumably for hair), a small, silver hand mirror (also engraved with her initials), a pair of tweezers, what appeared to be an old fashioned toothbrush, a small vial of rubbing alcohol, two bars of soap, a sponge, four small rolls of cotton fabric that she thought might be bandages, three cotton washcloths, a slightly larger hand towel, and three handkerchiefs with 'J. B' stitched in green on the corners.

Replacing the items in the box, Jane reread the letter several times, making sure to review the objectives carefully. Once she had committed them to memory, she returned back inside. She walked into the adjoining room where a fire was burning low in the hearth. She took a pair of tongs and carefully placed the letter in the strongest part of the blaze. The edges curled and the paper was slowly reduced to ashes.

She brushed off her hands, retrieved her box from the balcony, and wondered what exactly she was supposed to do about Aria.

* * *

Over the next forty-eight hours, Jane spent most of her time with Aria, who did her best to fill her in on recent events and other pertinent information about Middle-earth. Jane was supposed to be acting as Aria's maid (hence the servant garb), a task which mostly involved trailing Aria around the gardens and occasionally fetching something for her.

All in all, it was a highly unremarkable way to pass the time. Jane generally took her meals up in Aria's room, as Aria thought that would be the best way to ensure that Jane's sudden appearance in Rivendell did not attract unwanted attention. As her second day in Middle-earth drew to a close Jane was beginning to feel rather isolated. If she had her way, she would have spent the time getting more acquainted with Rivendell and its inhabitants; instead, she spent most of her time with Aria, who was very serious in maintaining Jane's obscurity.

"Perhaps," thought Jane, "I should have made her a little less persistent when I wrote her."

Although she dreaded the ensuing consequences and complications, Jane started looking forward to the Council simply because it meant a change of pace. Aria was a nice enough person, but Jane thought she might go mad if she had to spend another day in isolation with the Elf. Life at Rivendell was lovely, but mind numbingly boring. Vying for permission to go on a perilous quest seemed almost preferable in comparison.

* * *

Jane awoke with a stomachache the morning of the Council. She felt nervous and rather edgy—Roger's plan seemed increasingly foolish. Over the past two days, she had become more fully aware that she was in Middle-earth—she had seen Gandalf walking through the gardens with Frodo and she had also caught a brief glimpse of Lord Elrond when she was passing through the Great Hall. With these sightings, she began to realize that the characters were as real as she was. She had _definitely_ tweaked the rules in _Nightingales Sing Arias_—there was no way that Aria would _actually_ be allowed to be a member of the Fellowship. Jane was certain that her own candidacy had gone out the window a long time ago—she was an unknown servant. She would surely be forced to stay behind—what would she do then?

Aria, on the other hand, did not seem as worried.

"I'm to attend the Council this afternoon," she stated as Jane finished up her breakfast.

"You are?" questioned Jane, feeling rather worried that she was not included in this statement.

"Of course," said Aria, as though it was nothing important. "I told Father I wished to attend—mind you, he wasn't very willing, but he respects my opinion on most matters and I suppose that worked to my advantage." She plucked a grape from Jane's plate and continued talking. "I can go, provided I behave myself and keep quiet." She popped the grape in her mouth and chewed elegantly.

"Oh…well, that's good, I suppose," Jane replied.

"Don't you fret," Aria said reassuringly, "I haven't forgotten about you, of course, but it would have been a fruitless to ask Father—I imagine he would have been a little suspicious. But don't you worry—I've got an idea that ought to work."

"Ought to?" thought Jane. "That's not particularly reassuring." She gave a wan smile in response.

She only hoped Roger was right in his assessment that this would be the least difficult part of her task.

* * *

Aria departed for the Council shortly after midday, leaving Jane with instructions to not leave the room.

Naturally, this irritated Jane.

Naturally, she didn't have a choice in the matter.

She spent several hours confined in Aria's room flipping lazily through books. Distraction, she soon realized, was not possible. Her mind was too occupied with the Council to really focus on anything else. Eventually, she began to pace, too restless and nervous to sit still.

A knock sounded unexpectedly at the door and she jumped slightly before calling "Come in!"

A tall grey-haired servant opened the door.

"Lord Elrond requests your immediate presence," greeted the woman. Jane paled, feeling rather nervous.

"Oh…" she replied, words seeming to have abandoned her.

"Follow me, then," said the woman. Jane nodded and quickly exited the room.

Panicked thoughts raced through Jane's mind as she followed the servant woman through the halls. She wasn't sure how Aria had granted her audience with Elrond or what she expected Jane to say once she arrived. At the moment, Jane was feeling rather inarticulate. Not only was this an incredibly important part of her mission, it would also be her first real encounter with genuine Tolkien characters. She didn't know how to prepare herself for something so momentous and utterly unbelievable.

They eventually reached the corridor near the open garden where the Council was held. Jane's heart hammered in her chest and her knees wobbled uncertainly.

"Go on," directed the servant woman, gesturing toward the assembly. "They're expecting you."

Jane swallowed.

"Oh…thank you," she replied. The woman nodded and shuffled off. Jane took a deep breath and timidly made her way down the corridor.

The low murmur of voices increased in volume as she drew closer. As she approached the Council, the volume dropped drastically, as most of the members of the Council stared openly at her. She halted near the edge of the corridor, uncertain as to what she was expected to do. Lord Elrond nodded and motioned for her to enter, which she did with much trepidation.

The Fellowship of the Ring was assembled near Elrond, while other members of the Council remained seated. Jane noticed that Aria was one of the few standing, and she assumed that Aria somehow must have talked her way into the Fellowship, which was not at all unexpected. After all, Jane had written her that way.

"Is this her?" asked Lord Elrond, his dark eyes regarding Jane with a fairly judgmental look. Jane steadily returned his gaze and tried to appear confident and poised.

"Yes," Aria declared, her eyes darkening in defiance.

"Do you know why you're here?" asked Elrond, addressing his question to Jane.

She shook her head.

"No, my lord, I don't."

"My daughter tells me you are trustworthy. Is that a true assessment of your character?" questioned the Elf Lord. Jane tried to swallow her nervousness.

"I'd like to think so, my lord." She tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered a little.

Elrond nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Explain, Aria, why you feel this young woman should journey with the Fellowship," he said, addressing the beautiful Elf. Aria returned his stare with confidence, her lips tight with determination.

"In a group of ten people, it would be most useful to have a servant," she replied, looking around at the other Council members as she spoke. Jane bit her lip and tried to repress a shocked expression. "Jane is my most loyal and trustworthy companion. She is adept and skilled at her work and it is my belief that her presence with the Fellowship—not as a member, of course—would be most beneficial to the quest."

Jane was growing increasingly irritated as Aria continued to speak. Go on the stupid quest as a _servant_? The fact that they would be unwilling to include her as even a small part of the Fellowship and not just the hired help irritated her even more. However, given her position, she couldn't actually _say_ anything about it, which really frustrated her.

"I do not see the need," began Elrond, "to bring a servant on a quest as this."

"It would be more efficient," argued Aria, her cheeks coloring slightly, "if someone were able to help with everyday responsibilities. The speed of the quest is imperative to achieve the desired end."

"It would be foolish, Lord Elrond," interjected a white-haired dwarf. "We cannot waste provisions on a traveler wholly unessential to the quest!"

"It should also be noted that more travelers will slow the speed of the group," added a man with graying hair. "There are already ten members of the Fellowship—an eleventh traveler will cause timeliness to suffer, Lady Nightingale."

Other members made noises of assent.

Jane felt rather ill.

"I cannot grant your request, Aria," stated Lord Elrond. "It is the will of the Council—"

"I wonder," interjected an old, scratchy voice that belonged to Gandalf the Grey, "if I might have a word with the girl, Lord Elrond."

Members of the Council muttered incomprehensibly and Jane's mouth dropped open slightly before she had the consciousness to close it. Even the unmovable Elf Lord looked somewhat surprised.

"On what matter?" questioned Elrond, regarding the wizard somewhat suspiciously.

"A matter of a private nature," replied Gandalf. Jane suspected the grey-haired wizard was one of the few people who could speak so freely with the Lord of Imladris.

Lord Elrond paused a moment before nodding in assent. A smile tugged at the corner of Aria's mouth, expressing more confidence than Jane felt at the moment.

"Come with me, Miss Baker," beckoned Gandalf, gesturing toward a garden path that trailed off into the surrounding gardens. Conscious of all the eyes trained on her, Jane nodded and started off down the path, followed closely by the old wizard.

They walked in silence for a while, the sound of their footsteps seeming to echo in the quiet of Rivendell.

"Just a bit further," said Gandalf, breaking the silence, which Jane was beginning to find rather awkward. "Elves have a most remarkable sense of hearing, which, you will find, can be most irritating when one wishes to communicate in private." The wizard chuckled through his beard and Jane managed a weak smile. "Ah, this will do," he said as they came upon a stone bench.

"Now," stated Gandalf as they both sat on the bench, "I have a feeling, Miss Baker, that you are not what you seem."

Jane paled slightly. Had she failed already?

"Oh?" she asked rather quietly. Gandalf's eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

"Yes, indeed," replied the wizard. "Are you familiar with a man by the name of Roger Morton?"

Jane's eyes widened. How could Gandalf know about Roger?

"Should I not be? Is he an undesirable acquaintance?" she inquired, rather flustered.

Gandalf chuckled.

"A tactful response, Miss Baker," replied the wizard. "I suppose if you count my friends as undesirable and dangerous, then Mr. Morton would be considered as such." Jane started, somewhat surprised.

"He is…a friend of yours?" she asked.

"Oh yes," said Gandalf. "Roger and I have known each other for a very long time. And I imagine that he is part of the reason why you are here, Miss Baker."

"You are familiar with his work, then?" she replied. Gandalf's eyes twinkled.

"Another tactful response," he said. "I know that the work Roger does is often far beyond what occurs here in Middle-earth—for that reason alone, I do not inquire about the specifics. After all, there are some things we are simply not meant to know."

"That is true," agreed Jane.

"Now, tell me, Miss Baker," said Gandalf, his tone turning more serious. "Are you here on a quest of your own?"

"Well…yes, I suppose you could call it that," replied Jane.

"And you must journey with the Fellowship for the sake of your own quest?"

"Yes."

Gandalf looked at her pensively for several minutes.

"I will speak with Lord Elrond privately on this matter," he finally declared. Jane's heart surged with a new hope.

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Gandalf was true to his word. The very next day, Aria burst into the room, her cheeks pink with excitement and a wide smile pasted across her face.

"I don't know what Gandalf said, but Father has agreed!" she greeted. Jane looked up from her book.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes—you're to travel with us as a servant. Unfortunately, there was no other way to ensure your inclusion—otherwise I would have asked that you be considered a member," said Aria apologetically. Jane could feel her jaw tense slightly with irritation, but she managed a weak smile. "It will be lovely, really," continued Aria, as though she were talking about a vacation to a resort spa. "We'll have a wonderful time together and—"

Jane nodded politely and tuned the chattering Elf out as her stomach knotted with tension at the thought of the upcoming quest.

* * *

A/N: Well. That took much longer than I intended. Feedback is appreciated, as always.

* * *


	3. The Trouble with Aria

**Disclaimer: **If I had the rights to _Lord of the Rings_, I probably wouldn't need a summer job (or any other gainful employment, for that matter).

**Author's Note: **Well. It's been a while, hasn't it? Close to eleven months, if you want to be precise. My deepest apologies for the long delay—I started college this year and it was quite a transition. I didn't have much time to write. But now that summer's here and I've (theoretically) got the hang of this college thing, updates should come on a timelier basis.

_Chapter Three: The Trouble with Aria_

Aria Nightingale was very good at many things. For example, she was an exceptional archer, swordswoman, musician, artist, writer, seamstress, dancer, gardener, horsewoman, cook, healer, and storyteller. Some of her talent was enhanced by her keen Elven senses; however, most of it was influenced by the fact that she tended to be successful at everything she attempted.

Jane was fairly well aware of this—after all, she had been the creative force behind the Elf's existence. So when Aria announced that she would be training Jane in the basics of swordplay and archery, Jane was not particularly concerned. It made sense, as Jane's presence on the quest was largely Aria's doing.

However, although Aria was exceptionally talented at many things, she was not a very good teacher.

"Once more," sighed Aria as Jane raised her practice sword, "but do try a little harder this time."

Jane bit her lip and forced herself not to snap at the Elf. She _had_ been trying. However, every attempt she made ended abruptly with an elaborate disarming move from Aria. It seemed to Jane that the purpose of the entire training session was to showcase Aria's talents with a sword.

"All right," said Jane with a forced calmness.

"One…two…three…"

Jane had barely raised her sword into a block before it was knocked out of her hand once again. Aria gave an irritable sigh.

"Really, Jane…"

"I _tried_," Jane snapped, a little more crossly than she intended. "You barely gave me a chance to react!"

"Well, it's not going to be any easier in battle," replied Aria, her voice calm, but her eyes flashing slightly. "Do you think an enemy will just _announce_ its intention to attack?"

Jane opened her mouth to protest, but she was interrupted by someone discreetly clearing his throat.

"That sword is too heavy for her," declared a voice. Jane looked up to find Aragorn watching on the edge of the practice area, his arms folded across his chest. She wasn't sure if she should feel relieved or worried, as she hadn't really gotten a sense as to whether the Ranger liked or despised her. She hoped it was the former.

"We're using the same sword," replied Aria, looking somewhat irritated at the Ranger.

"Yes, but you are much more experienced than Miss Baker, Lady Nightingale. A lighter weapon would be more appropriate for her experience and build," said Aragorn, moving to look at some of the practice swords lined up on the racks. He selected one and approached Jane. "This will be easier to wield," he said, passing her the weapon.

"Thank you," said Jane quietly. She lifted the new sword and felt an immediate difference. It was much lighter and much easier to use than the other one, which felt heavy and cumbersome in comparison.

"Ready?" asked Aria, still looking rather irritated. Jane placed the old practice sword on the ground as Aragorn backed up a few paces. "One…two…three…"

Despite the new sword, this attempt ended like the previous ones. Aria sighed again and Jane tried to steel herself for another pointless exchange.

"May I?" asked Aragorn, interrupting Aria before she could speak. She seemed to consider this for a moment.

"I don't see why not," she shrugged. She handed her sword to Aragorn and took his place off to the side of the room.

Jane regarded the Ranger rather nervously as he took his place in front of her. She was going to cross blades with a genuine Tolkien character, and a warrior at that. A combination of nerves and excitement formed an unpleasant knot in her stomach.

"Your footwork needs some attention," he said. "You stand almost in the same place for the entire duration of the fight. You need to learn how to move and to move quickly and fluidly. Now watch."

He patiently worked Jane through the movements of fencing. He did not disarm her in flashy moves, as Aria had, but used basic maneuvers so Jane actually got a chance to put her practical knowledge to work. After a while, he had Aria come back and duel Jane. And although Aria once again disarmed Jane in a series of flashy movements, Jane was at least able to hold her own for a few minutes.

Aragorn began showing up at Jane's training sessions after that. Jane was thrilled. She had always liked Aragorn and it was quite exciting to be able to interact with him. He was a valuable and interesting person to have around, although Jane felt a little guilty for wasting his time with basic swordplay when he was clearly at a more advanced level.

"You know, I really appreciate everything you've done, but you don't have to do this," she said to him one day as they put away the equipment. "I'm sure you've got a lot of things to do other than teach me remedial fencing."

Aragorn smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "It's good practice."

Although Jane wasn't entirely sure why Aragorn had taken her under his wing, she was quite grateful for the gesture. The events at the Council had caused quite a stir and it was no great secret that most people thought that Aria had made a very stupid decision. However, the fact that Aria was Elrond's daughter required that people show her some semblance respect even if they disagreed with her. As a servant, Jane did not enjoy that advantage and was often forced to endure cold stares and whispering. Unfortunately, there was not much she could do other than hold her head up and pretend she didn't notice anything.

Many of the citizens of Rivendell did not take very kindly to Jane. They were never rude or directly upfront about their feelings, but Jane got a good sense of their attitude from the constant stares and ill-concealed whispers. Lord Elrond was too well-bred to partake in such base social customs, but Jane felt his manner was noticeably cooler around her. Only Arwen, Elrond's second daughter and Aria's half-sister, seemed to have kindness for Jane. Jane didn't spend much time with the Elf, but the few minutes she spent in Arwen's company made a very large impression on her.

Gimli, the Dwarf, made it quite clear that he did not think much of Jane. If they were forced to speak, his gruff manner often bordered on rudeness. Privately, Jane felt that his dislike of her was largely a result of the fact that she was associated with Aria, whom he outright despised. The Elf and Dwarf had never met before, but the enmity that grew between them was enough in size and strength to suggest a grudge that went back years. In reality, it was mostly based on the fact that Elves and Dwarves don't always get along well. The fact that both Aria and Gimli were headstrong only aggravated things between them. Jane was not looking forward to traveling with the two of them.

Boromir was slightly more subtle in his dislike of both Aria and Jane. It was rather difficult to ignore Aria because she was both beautiful and persistent in the fact that she should not be ignored. In comparison, Jane was fairly unremarkable and quite easy to ignore. So Boromir took to ignoring Jane and saved disparaging looks and remarks for Aria.

Jane was not entirely sure whether the Elf, Legolas, had an opinion of either her or Aria. He didn't seem to particularly like or dislike Aria, which was quite difficult to do, given her beauty and, as Roger had called it, "spirit." He was always quite civil to both Aria and Jane, inquiring after their health and exchanging other such pleasantries. She couldn't quite tell if his politeness was genuine or simply out of habit, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

Gandalf continued to be quite kind to Jane, perhaps because he had a slight sense of her real situation. Whatever the case, it was quite a welcome change. He was fascinating, but comforting in a grandfatherly sort of way. And even though Jane knew he had many rare and powerful talents, the fact that he was not outwardly good at everything was a nice break from Aria. The hobbits were also quite friendly, but Jane suspected that they weren't capable of much ill-will, given their jovial personalities.

Overall, Jane was fairly uncertain how traveling with the Fellowship would be. Their opinions of her ranged from warm to cold, which would certainly complicate things.

"Perhaps they'll get more used to me once they get to know me," she thought hopefully. "Maybe they'll realize that I'm not like Aria at all."

At that particular moment, Gimli came tromping through the garden. Jane sent a tentative smile in his direction to test her new theory. Gimli responded with a typical grumble and continued on his way.

"Well," she thought as the Dwarf disappeared around a corner, "at least I've got Gandalf."

* * *

Despite the obvious conflicts, the week passed fairly quickly for Jane. A few days before, Aria's room became a virtual war zone, with supplies and clothing draped over available surface as she thought about what to pack. It turned out that Jane was responsible for preparing the Elf for the quest, so she found herself spending a lot of time in Aria's room while the Elf fretted over the practicality of a particular tunic. In all honesty, Jane would have much preferred to be outside doing something else, but unfortunately she was only allowed out of the room for a few hours to practice with Aragorn while Aria elected to stay in and pack.

Soon it was the night before they were due to leave. Aria was far chattier than normal, providing a slightly annoying soundtrack for Jane as she packed the final items into their respective backpacks.

Jane had taken to sleeping on a couch in Aria's room, as the servant's quarters intimidated her slightly. However, the problem with this was that Aria often continued to talk well into the night, forgetting the fact that Jane needed to rest. It was only after Jane sleepily reminded Aria of this fact that the Elf quieted down, allowing Jane to drift off to sleep.

Jane was wakened very early the next morning to someone shaking her shoulder.

"Jane, Jane, wake up! Wake up! It's morning!" whispered Aria excitedly.

Jane looked blearily up at the sky. "Morning" was a slight exaggeration—the sun had barely peeked over the horizon and there were still traces of night in the pink-streaked sky.

"Aria, it's _dawn_. There's a big difference," yawned Jane sleepily. "We don't have to be up for another few hours at least."

"We will rise not much later when we are on the quest," stated Aria primly.

"All the more reason to sleep in," mumbled Jane, pulling the blankets up to her chin and rolling over. She vaguely heard the Elf sigh irritably and mutter something in Elvish as she drifted back to sleep.

Several hours later, a hand once again shook Jane from a very pleasant sleep.

"It's much later," stated Aria once Jane opened her eyes. Jane glanced at the sky once again. Although the sun was still fairly low in the sky, the traces of the sunrise had disappeared, which made it a slightly more appropriate time to get up.

"All right," sighed Jane as she sat up and stretched. Aria happily sprang to her feet and began flitting around the room as she began to prepare for her morning routine, talking excitedly the entire time. She had apparently sent for breakfast some time earlier, as there were two plates sitting on her vanity, one of which was empty. She passed the full one to Jane.

"Eat," she said as Jane settled the plate in her lap. "You must have your strength. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Her monologue continued as Jane made her way through her poached egg, fruit, and bread. Jane idly wondered how it was possible to have this much energy at such an ungodly hour. In the end, she attributed it to Aria's Elven heritage.

About a half an hour later, Jane and Aria were both dressed and nearly ready to leave. Jane allowed the Elf a few moments to herself as she glanced with a sad fondness around the room. Finally, she took a deep breath and exited the room, with Jane trailing closely behind her.

It seemed that everyone stopped to stare at Aria when she made her entrance. Even the hobbits stopped packing supplies on Bill the pony to admire the Elf. For even in simple clothing, Aria was still something of a vision. The soft grey of her tunic complemented her eyes (which had changed to a mixture of soft violets and blues) nicely. Her hair was as glossy and as brilliant as ever, pinned up at the nape of her neck in a very complicated braid. Her ensemble was flattering to her lithe figure—her pants clung to her legs in such a way as to flatter their shape and her tunic made her waist seem impossibly small. Moreover, she seemed to positively glow with some sort of inner radiance, which made it almost impossible to look away. Even if you happened to disagree with her, you couldn't deny that she was beautiful.

Of course, Aria seemed to barely notice the extra attention (or if she did, she was masterful at hiding it) and went to greet Elrond, who was watching over the situation with a cool demeanor.

Jane followed quietly in Aria's footsteps, feeling invisible and plain in the wake of Aria. Aside from Legolas and Aragorn, who nodded greetings, and Gimli, who offered an ill-concealed scowl, no one noticed her. She suppressed a sigh and went to go help the hobbits saddle up the pony. It was certainly going to be a long journey.

Jane was not particularly skilled at preparing a pack horse, but the hobbits were quite nice about it and seemingly grateful for her awkward help anyway. She was puzzling over the problem of a few pots and pans when a loud and clear voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Baker?"

She looked up from her pots and pans, although she knew that the regal voice could belong to no one else.

"If I might have a word," said Lord Elrond.

Jane carefully handed the pots to Sam and approached the Elf lord, conscious of all the eyes on her. She smiled to herself; mere moments ago she was feeling unnoticed and annoyed—now she was the center of everyone's focus and slightly uncomfortable as a result. She stopped in front of Elrond.

"Yes, my lord?" she said.

"Although you are not one of the Fellowship, you must know that you are not required to see this journey to its end. You are free to leave their company whenever you desire," he said quietly.

Jane held Elrond's gaze, wondering if this was meant to be a general statement or an expression of doubt about her capability.

"However," continued Elrond, his voice becoming sterner, "should you choose to abandon the quest, you must understand that you are still bound to secrecy. You must not reveal the nature or purpose of the quest to anyone. Do you understand?"

A hand came down on Jane's shoulder and she started slightly.

"I think you'll find the girl is well aware of her responsibilities," said Gandalf warmly, coming to stand next to Jane.

"Gandalf," said Elrond, inclining his head slightly in greeting. "You're late."

"A wizard is never late, Lord Elrond," said Gandalf.

If Elrond was prone to eye-rolling, Jane was quite certain he would have done so at that moment. Instead, he just smiled in such a manner that suggested he had heard that particular phrase many times. His features seemed to relax for a moment and he appeared slightly less stern than he had before.

"Very well." He looked at Jane once again. "You understand your responsibility?"

"I have every intention of seeing this quest through, my lord," replied Jane. "You don't have to worry about me saying more than I should."

Lord Elrond nodded and Jane thought that he might have smiled just a little. It was quite possible that he still thought she was a nuisance, but Jane thought that perhaps he didn't dislike her as she had assumed.

Both she and Gandalf retreated from Elrond, as it was evident that the assembly was becoming slightly restless (although it was likely that most of them had overheard their entire conversation, Jane thought that they were all probably ready to get started).

The pony was pretty well packed up and all that stood between the Fellowship (and Jane) and their departure was some speechmaking, which Elrond attended to, mainly reiterating the purpose of the quest and reminding them that they swore no oath to go farther than they will.

Finally, Gandalf cleared his throat and said:

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer."

Jane took a deep breath. This was it. They were leaving the safety of Rivendell to travel toward the center of evil itself. There would be hosts of orcs, a Balrog, trolls, and a myriad of other foul creatures awaiting them with open blades. Not to mention the growing threat of both Sauron and Saruman.

And through all of this, Jane was supposed to be developing Aria Nightingale into a decent character.

As Frodo began to lead them out of Rivendell, Jane Baker realized the true magnitude of the difficulty of her quest…and not for the last time.

* * *

The first day was fairly uneventful. Jane had always enjoyed walking and the scenery was nice, so she was not particularly bothered by distance or monotony. She tried to stay close to Gandalf or Aragorn, as they both had expressed some degree of friendliness to her. Aria mainly occupied herself by scouting ahead, although Jane didn't particularly see the need for such an action.

Jane's thoughts drifted to Aria. What did she need to change about Aria? At first, nothing came to mind. She was practically perfect. Of course, that was the main problem—she was _too_ perfect. It wasn't believable. More importantly, it was slightly annoying.

"But what can I change?" thought Jane to herself. "She's going to be talented no matter what I do. She'll be beautiful unless she runs into a brick wall." Jane chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "Maybe what I need to change is how she _uses_ her talents and beauty. Maybe the problem starts there."

Jane briefly listed Aria's most prominent qualities in her head: beautiful, talented, and "spirited". She thought about the last one for a moment. Part of the reason that the Council had been so irritated with Aria was that she couldn't take "no" for an answer, nor could she mind her own business when appropriate. She seemed to lack a certain amount of tact.

"So…how can I change that?" Jane asked herself. No immediate answer came to mind. Jane sighed and was suddenly quite grateful for the amount of time she had to think.

* * *

Luckily for Jane, Aria was unknowingly quite eager to create situations in which Jane could possibly interject some good, solid character developing advice. 

Unfortunately, the first of these moments happened in front of the entire Fellowship.

They had stopped for the night on their first day on the road. Jane had helped build the fire and tried her best to assist Sam, who had insisted on cooking dinner. She was in a fairly good mood—the weather had been nice and the quest was still new enough to produce some degree of excitement and anticipation.

However, Boromir was apparently not in as good a mood, which only aggravated the situation.

Jane wasn't sure how it all happened, but as she passed a bowl of soup to Boromir, the bowl slipped from her grasp and its hot contents spilled all over his lap.

Boromir sprang from his feet with a yelp that was loud enough to be heard in Mordor while Jane tried to apologize.

"Foolish girl!" he growled, pulling the rag she offered from her hands. "The first night out here she has already proved to be a nuisance!"

"I'm sorr—" Jane began, but Aria had already leapt to her feet.

"You should choose your words more carefully, _my lord_," she spat, putting a heavy sarcastic emphasis on 'my lord'.

"Perhaps _you_ should choose your companions more carefully, _my lady_," retorted Boromir with an equal amount of sarcasm.

"Jane is far more trustwor—"

"Aria!" interjected Jane sharply, growing tired of the arguing. Both Boromir and Aria quieted and looked at her in surprise. Jane could feel the rest of the gazes of the Fellowship on her as well. She cleared her throat.

"I can fight my own battles," she said quietly. Aria looked slightly taken aback. "Milady," she added quickly. She took a deep breath and turned to Boromir. "I am terribly sorry, milord. The bowl slipped. It was an accident. I'll make sure it won't happen again."

Boromir held her gaze for a moment and Jane steeled herself for an angry retort. Instead, he finally nodded slightly and sat back down. Jane retrieved the bowl from where it had fallen and calmly refilled it, willing her hands to stop shaking. She handed the bowl to Boromir, who took it and began to eat. With that, the tension seemed to relax slightly and everyone went about their business.

"Why did you do that?" asked Aria later that evening.

Jane took a deep breath and tried to prepare an appropriate response.

"I needed to apologize," she said simply.

"I would have defended you," replied Aria. Jane smiled slightly.

"I know…but it was my quarrel," she explained. "Sometimes you don't need to jump in like that. If I needed help, I certainly would have let you know."

Aria seemed to contemplate this for a moment, which Jane took to be a good sign.

"But he should not have said those things," Aria pointed out after a moment.

Jane shrugged. "I guess. But I _did_ spill hot soup in his lap—some of the things he said were likely driven by that and not anything I'd done."

Aria smiled slightly and fell silent, apparently lost in her thoughts. Jane went to bed shortly after, feeling as though she had accomplished something that day.

The first full day away from Rivendell proved to be much more difficult. It was the sort of day where Jane was glad that she had sworn no oath to travel with the Fellowship indefinitely.

She was awakened very early in the morning by Aragorn, who had the last part of the night watch.

"What is it?" she asked groggily, feeling quite comfortable wrapped up in her blanket, despite the fact that the ground was fairly uncomfortable.

"They will rise soon—you will want to begin preparing breakfast, I imagine," said the Ranger quietly.

Jane blinked, suddenly feeling more awake and more than a little worried. She hadn't really been instrumental to the cooking of dinner the night before—on the contrary, she had watched Sam and handed him items when he requested them. More importantly, she had never cooked over an open fire. She wasn't a bad cook, but she knew it would not be the same as cooking over an electric stove.

"Oh," she finally managed. "Thanks…I'll be ready in a minute."

Jane thought frantically as she cleaned her teeth and brushed her hair. _Why_ had she not joined Girl Scouts in grade school? Why had she listened to her mother and taken pottery classes instead? She tried to remember anything she had ever been taught about camping; unfortunately, that amounted to a few random tips about peeing in the woods (courtesy of her friend Rebecca who had experienced several particularly bad camping trips). Completely at a loss, Jane packed up her blankets and made her way over to the fire.

"Where's Aria?" she asked Aragorn quietly. Legolas was standing nearby, studying the morning sky with the sort of intensity that suggested it was academic, but Aria was nowhere to be seen.

Aragorn sighed. "She went off into the woods, against my counsel. She said something about berries."

Jane smiled slightly. No doubt the Elf would come back with pockets full of sweet berries, enough for everyone to have some with breakfast. If they had an oven, Jane suspected she would have also found a way to whip up a batch of muffins as well.

Jane turned her attention to the fire, which had gone out some time during the night. She examined the tinderbox that was sitting nearby. She opened it, picked up the flint and steel, and looked at them for a moment before carefully striking them together.

Try as she might, Jane could not light the fire. In the beginning, she was too gentle with the flint and steel and could not produce a spark. As the moments passed and no spark was produced, she began to grow more panicked and her hands began to shake. What would happen if they all woke up and found her crouching over the unlit fire, striking uselessly at the flint and steel like a fool? Boromir would be right about her usefulness, certainly. Perhaps they'd ask her to leave. Then she'd be stuck in the wilderness alone, unable to develop Aria's character and unable to go home. She tried to blink back tears and tried once more with the flint and steel. Nothing. She shut her eyes and the flint and steel tumbled from her hands onto the ground.

"Miss Baker?"

A very kind voice interrupted what was becoming a very depressing thought process. Jane looked up. Sam was standing at the edge of the fire, looking slightly concerned. Jane swallowed and tried to smile. The hobbit gave her a kind look and gathered the flint and steel from where they had fallen. In a series of swift and sure movements, he had the fire lit and began preparing the food for breakfast.

Jane quietly approached him after a moment and began to help as she had the night before.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly after a moment. "I…I had some trouble and I…" She trailed off. There was no really good reason why she _shouldn't_ know how to do these things as a servant. But Sam just smiled.

"Don't you worry, Miss Baker," he said, handing her a frying pan. "We all forget and have trouble. Sometimes we just need to relearn a few things—that's all."

And from that day onward, Sam was always up to help with breakfast.

* * *

The problem with the movies, Jane began to realize, is that they really mess up your sense of time. In the movies, it appears that the Fellowship meets the _crebain_ maybe a week or so after the departure from Rivendell. In reality, it took more than a month. What's more, the days were quite long. Although the scenery was nice, Jane was beginning to miss the convenience and speed of automobiles. Traveling by foot was far more difficult and messy. The mess was perhaps one of the most unpleasant parts—no matter what she did, at the end of every day, Jane had accumulated a fine layer of dirt on most of her exposed skin. She made efforts to wash every day, but sometimes it seemed pointless, as she often felt dirty even after washing. Aria, of course, remained flawlessly clean, with perhaps a stray streak of dirt across her cheek. However, the placement of such streaks seemed almost too artful to qualify as real dirt.

The bugs were no picnic either. There were mosquitoes, fleas, and spiders and they all seemed to consider Jane a walking buffet. The day she found a tick on her neck was the day the day she finally freaked out.

"You helped Sam skin a rabbit for dinner last night," Aragorn stated as he attempted to remove the tick with the tweezers Jane had received from Roger. "How is this any more appalling?"

"The rabbit was not sucking my blood," Jane replied. "And it was kind of cute, so I felt a little sorry for it. Ticks are just…gross."

"She has a point," agreed Pippin.

But despite the bugs, bug bites, mud, and inevitable aches and pains from walking all day, it wasn't all bad. On the plus side, Jane noted that her leg muscles were getting much stronger.

However, Aria still hadn't made any significant strides, even after the exchange they'd had on the first night. Jane continued to patiently remind Aria to mind her own business when the occasion arose, but she hadn't really seen any big changes overall.

There were some slight changes within the Fellowship in regard to Jane. It seemed that Boromir was less quick to dismiss her, although he still didn't seem to care for her much. Relations with Gimli continued to be strained as he and Aria continued to exchange words. Jane thought that would be her next project, as Aria's headstrongness seemed to come to a head when Gimli was involved.

Legolas was a soothing presence and Jane found that he was a good person to walk with because he noticed things that other people did not. Generally it was related to scouting, but he could also find things that were interesting or amusing—a woodpecker trying to get its beak unstuck from a tree or a black squirrel with a white tail that sort of resembled a skunk. They didn't talk a lot, but in a way, words weren't always necessary.

Sam was quickly becoming something akin to a friend—she was reluctant to call him that only because her relationship to anyone in the Fellowship was so strange. She got to know him over the cooking fire and he was quite happy to oblige her with stories of the Shire. He never asked too much about where she came from, for which Jane was glad, as she was still in the process of inventing a believable story. He was content to talk and she was content to listen and ask questions. Sometimes Frodo would wake up early and come over to listen. Jane liked Frodo. He was modest and grounded, the sort of person who is valuable in a fantasy world.

And so the days continued to stretch on in one long stream of travel. Jane was constantly on the lookout for familiar places so she would be prepared when the bigger events swept into motion. She knew that they would meet the _crebain_ and every day brought them closer to that pivotal event. However, not knowing_ when_ it would happen was maddening.

* * *

When they came upon the hill with the boulders strewn across the coarse grass, Jane's breath caught in her throat. She recognized it. 

"Jane?" Legolas was looking at her strangely. "Are you ill?"

"Oh, no," she replied quickly, pasting a smile on her face. "I didn't sleep well last night." It was a fairly lame excuse and she hoped for her sake that Legolas wasn't quite perceptive enough to pick up on any clues that might suggest she was lying.

The Elf regarded her with an unreadable expression before nodding. Jane breathed an inward sigh of relief.

It was difficult to hide her unease as they prepared to make a brief camp on the hill. They did not often stop to eat lunch, but both Aragorn and Gandalf seemed to agree that it would be one of those rare days. The hobbits were delighted, particularly Pippin, who declared that he would soon faint from hunger. Jane silently helped Sam prepare the meal. She was getting more proficient at the cooking fire and could be trusted to cook sausages to perfection.

After Merry and Pippin had more or less finished eating, Boromir offered to run them through some practice drills with the sword. Aragorn sat down with his pipe to watch and Frodo and Sam observed from their perch on one of the boulders. Jane's shoulders tensed slightly. It would happen soon.

Jane sat on one of the rocks with her knees tucked under her chin, her hands clasped tightly around her legs. She hadn't unpacked any of her things as the others had—what was the point? Better to keep it on and dive under cover that much quicker.

Legolas quickly grew more agitated as time passed, leaping from rock to rock as quickly and fluidly as a cat. Jane kept her eye on the southern sky and sat quietly and waited.

Aria, of course, noticed the change in her companion.

"Are you ill, Jane?" she asked, lounging gracefully on the rock beside Jane.

"I didn't sleep well," said Jane for the second time that day. Aria frowned and took a bite out of her apple.

"You look distressed," she stated. Jane shrugged. "Do relax a little—everyone else is." Aria glanced at Legolas, who was staring quite intently at the horizon. "Well, almost everyone." She cleared her throat. "Prince Legolas!" she called. She had taken to addressing the Elf as such when she was in a particularly playful mood. Legolas glanced over at Aria. "Must you be so dull? Rest for a moment—surely we are safe here."

Legolas gave a very small smile in return, but continued to watch the sky with vigilance. Aria laughed, her laughter sounding like a combination of a bubbling brook and a lilting song.

"He is stubborn," Aria said to Jane, glancing at the sky. "He always…" She trailed off abruptly and leapt to her feet, scanning the sky with her remarkable eyes.

"Aria?" said Jane, her unease growing. Aria ignored her and joined Legolas on his rock. Jane could hear them speaking quietly in Elvish. Jane looked at the sky. She could see nothing unusual yet…just an endless expanse of slate grey. She shuddered and drew her knees closer to her chest.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not…" she heard Gimli begin. She abruptly stood up and hopped down from her perch on the boulder. It would happen soon.

Sure enough, seconds later Boromir accidentally hit Pippin, resulting in a brief tussle. Jane inhaled sharply and tried not too look too worried. Sam noticed her unease.

"Are you ill, Miss Baker?" he asked over the shouts of Boromir, Pippin, and Merry. Jane tried to smile reassuringly.

"I didn't sleep well," she lied once again. Sam looked like he was about to say something when he glanced at the southern sky. "What is that?"

"Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud," Gimli declared. Aria looked decidedly paler as Boromir noted that it was moving against the wind. Jane tensed, ready to jump into action.

"_Crebain_ from Dunland!" Legolas declared.

Jane was halfway under the cover of a scraggly bush when Aragorn yelled at them to hide. She crawled underneath until she was entirely hidden, her heart pounding in her throat, partly from nerves and partly from the maddening anticipation of it all. She was shortly joined by Aria and Legolas, who dove into the scrubby foliage with much more grace than she had managed.

They waited in silence for a minute or so, although Jane was utterly convinced that her heartbeat would surely be heard by the birds. She was beginning to imagine an Alfred Hitchcock sort of situation when the cries of the birds suddenly became quite audible. She braced herself and took a deep breath.

Suddenly they were flying through the campsite with a good amount of noise. Jane thought their cries seemed sharper and more sinister than normal crows, although she wasn't sure how much of that was just her own imagination making things bigger than they actually were.

The noise finally abated and Jane waited until the others began to emerge before attempting to crawl out of the bushes. She stumbled to her feet and attempted to brush the dirt from her clothes.

"Spies of Saruman," declared Gandalf, frowning at the retreating crows. "The passage south is being watched. We must take the path of Caradhras."

Jane inhaled sharply and felt her shoulders tense up. Foreknowledge wasn't quite as easy as she thought it would be.

"Are you certain you're well?" asked Aria, giving Jane a very concerned look. Jane tried to muster up another reassuring smile.

"Of course," she replied. Aria raised an eyebrow and regarded Jane carefully. Jane smiled again and went to help Sam pack up the rest of the food from their lunch.

She couldn't help but notice that Legolas had been listening to their exchange was giving her a very strange look, as though he didn't know what to make of her. Jane flashed another smile in his direction and fervently hoped that the Elf wasn't quite as perceptive as he seemed.


	4. Suspicions Arise

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _LOTR_, but I'm willing to trade my half-finished collection of state quarters for the rights. Don't pretend like you haven't been looking for the Denver mint of New Jersey, Christopher Tolkien…

**A/N:** Well, the short story is that school takes up far too much time. Someone needs to invent a degree program that allows for writing fan fiction. I would totally minor in fan fiction. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapter and thanks for being patient.

_Chapter 4: Suspicions Arise_

Jane was significantly shaken by her brief encounter with the _crebain_ and she had a feeling that the trek up Caradhras would be about as fun as a root canal. She desperately wanted to take Gandalf aside and tell him that it just wasn't a good idea and that perhaps they should just go straight into Moria, or even chance the Gap of Rohan. But Roger's warning about meddling with the plot rang in her head and she reluctantly kept her mouth shut.

With every step she took toward Caradhras, the sicker Jane felt. The others were slightly shaken by the avian spies that morning, so the party was mostly silent, everyone content to leave the others to their thoughts.

Well, everyone except for a particular Elf prince.

"Your surname is Baker?" asked Legolas, slowing his pace and falling into step beside Jane. Jane nodded. "I'm not familiar with the house of Baker."

"We're not a very remarkable bloodline," replied Jane.

"From where do you hail?"

"Nowhere, really," said Jane as levelly as she could. She had invented a story over the course of their travel; a story that she hoped was both vague and specific enough not to raise too many questions. "None of my kinsmen stayed anywhere very long."

"And how did you come to be in Rivendell?"

This was where her story became a little muddled.

"Chance, really," she said vaguely. Legolas did not look very convinced and Jane abruptly changed tactics. "You're not normally so talkative, Prince Legolas. Why the interrogation?"

"I am curious," he stated simply.

"Clearly, but why?"

He glanced around at the other members of the Fellowship before continuing, his voice lowered.

"You knew about the _crebain_."

It was the accusation Jane had been dreading most. She screwed up her face in a mixed expression of shock and confusion that she hoped was convincing.

"What? How could I?" she exclaimed, her heart racing in a sharp tattoo against her ribcage.

"That is what intrigues me, Miss Baker."

Jane held his steely gaze for a moment.

"You don't trust me, do you?" she finally asked, wondering where Aria had gone. The one time she actually _wanted_ the Elf to butt in and she was nowhere to be found.

"I haven't decided," replied Legolas. "Either you have the gift of foresight or you are in league with our enemies. Yet you claim no noble blood and Gandalf himself supported your inclusion on this quest."

"I'm afraid I'm not quite that intriguing," Jane stated. "I'm a servant—nothing more."

"But you knew," pressed Legolas.

"I'm not sure where you got that impression, but—"

"You were waiting for something to happen," he interrupted. "You kept your eyes fixed on the skies."

"Why _wouldn't_ I be waiting for something to happen?" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "We've been traveling for well over a month and _nothing's_ happened. There comes a point where you begin to expect the worst!"

"Is something the matter?"

Aragorn had stopped walking when Jane started shouting and was looking back at the pair with eyebrows raised. Jane shook her head and immediately began walking faster, doing her best to leave the Elf prince behind her.

"What happened?" asked the Ranger as Jane neared him.

"Nothing," said Jane. "Do you know where Lady Nightingale's gone?"

"She's up ahead," replied Aragorn. "Why were you quarreling with Legolas?"

"It wasn't a quarrel, we just had a difference of opinion," said Jane vaguely. "I'm going to try and meet up with Lady Nightingale."

"I'd advise against it," stated Aragorn. "It would be best for us all to remain close together."

"Why didn't you stop Aria?" asked Jane.

Aragorn looked slightly annoyed. "I attempted to do so, but it was like telling a river to flow backwards. She thinks she is invincible and heeds no one's counsel."

Jane nodded and added that to her growing list of qualities that Aria needed to work on.

"She'll be all right," said Jane.

"She always is," said Aragorn, with a trace of irritation.

*

The hike up the mountain was fairly uneventful and quite cold—despite her multiple layers and well-made Elvish clothing, Jane was thoroughly frozen. Her cheeks were red and raw from the wind and sun. She irritably wished that Roger had had the foresight to give her a tube of sunscreen and some chapstick.

When it became too dark to continue, they set up camp, tramping down the snow as best they could. Jane's heart sank when she learned there would be no fire, so as not to attract any unwanted visitors (although Jane privately thought that it would be preferable to be warm and in danger rather than freezing and somewhat safe). She and Sam managed to get a meal prepared from the leftovers from lunch. Merry and Pippin entertained the group with stories and songs from the Shire as they ate. Jane sat about as far away from Legolas as she could manage without actually leaving camp.

With everything that was going on, Jane was incredibly thankful that Aria did not feel inspired to sing that evening—the cold irritated her vocal cords, the Elf had informed an inquiring Sam.

Despite the cold and the snow, Jane slept heavily through the night, although she had several repetitive dreams on the subject of distrust. When she woke the next morning, her head was heavy and clouded and her throat felt as though someone had been scraping sandpaper against it all night. She had also somehow managed to get snow in her sleeping roll, which proved to be very uncomfortable, wet, and cold.

She sluggishly assisted Sam with breakfast, eating little and wanting nothing more than to go back to bed for a few hours and sleep. She couldn't decide if it was the dreams she'd had the night before or the threat of an impending cold that had her so exhausted.

Jane didn't feel much better as the day went on. She walked with Aria to avoid Legolas, and somehow convinced the rebellious Elf to stick close to the group. Aria was content to do most of the talking, which Jane was grateful for because it meant she didn't have to think very much.

Frodo fell and dropped the Ring somewhere around midday when the sun was high and when Jane's overall patience with the mountain had begun to dwindle. She watched the entire exchange glassy eyed, snapping out of her trance only to stop Aria from marching back down to Boromir and giving him a piece of her mind.

"Aragorn has this under control," Jane said firmly, taking hold of Aria's wrist before she could progress much further down the mountain.

"He should _know_," she hissed angrily. "You saw how entranced he was—he would have had it on his finger if he had not been stopped!"

"But he _was_ stopped, milady," Jane pointed out quietly. Aria still looked enraged, her eyes flashing a bright violet. "Do you not trust Aragorn to handle the situation appropriately?"

Aria's jaw clenched.

"Well, no, of course not," she finally allowed.

"Then why aggravate the situation? Another argument would delay us further and we don't have time to waste with bickering."

Aria took a deep breath and seemed to think for a moment before finally relaxing. Although she didn't outwardly admit that Jane's words had a point, her silence indicated that she was _thinking_ about what Jane said. This, Jane thought, was a step in the right direction.

Legolas, she noticed, had been taking careful note of both the situation with Boromir and her conversation with Aria. Jane tried her best to ignore his thoughtful look.

It started snowing shortly after the hike was resumed. It was light and cheerful at first, but it quickly grew steadier and heavier the higher they climbed. Aria had made the transformation from Elf to ice princess, the snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes in a way that was fetching and artful. Some of the snow melted slightly once it touched her hair. When it caught the like, it looked as though her hair had been strung with thousands of tiny diamonds. Her ability to walk on top of the snow greatly contributed to the illusion of royalty—she looked like she was going for a casual stroll in the garden.

Jane was having a little more difficulty.

The problem with the snow was that the higher they climbed and the more it snowed and the deeper the snow got. While Aria and Legolas could walk upon the snow with no problem, the others were left to wade their way through heavy, wet snow. Being vertically challenged, Gimli and the hobbits had the worst time of it and eventually, the hobbits had to be carried by Boromir and Aragorn; only Gimli was too proud to admit defeat and struggled on valiantly, his beard becoming thick with snow.

And so they trudged on. The snow soaked through Jane's clothing and wormed its way into her boots, numbing the skin it came in contact with. Her throat was still hurting and her head felt foggy. She knew she ought to begin to prepare herself for Saruman's avalanche, but it was extremely difficult to recognize any landmarks in the snow and the wind roared loudly in her ears, making it difficult to listen for the spell that he would cast. In fact, it was not until their sluggish pace ground to a halt and Aragorn started shouting that Jane heard anything out of the ordinary.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!" shouted Aragorn as Gandalf struggled to the front of the path, raising his arms and shouting to counter Saruman's spell. She thought she could hear the low rumble of a chant in a foreign tongue, but the roar of the wind made listening difficult. Suddenly, the unmistakable crack of a lightning bolt shattered through the roaring wind. Jane looked up in time to see the snow and rocks break away from the peak of the mountain and begin their terrifying descent. She pressed herself flush against the mountain wall and took a deep breath.

Although she didn't mean to, she let out a shrill scream when the snow hit her with a bruising force, knocking the breath out of her lungs and nearly sending her to her knees. She'd had several snow forts collapse on her as a child, but this was a thousand times worse. It was dark and freezing and the snow above her seemed impossibly heavy. Her lungs began to burn as she fought upward, limbs flailing and thrashing. Finally, after what seemed like an impossibly long time, she felt her hand break through the surface. She inhaled the cold air greedily, wheezing slightly as she pulled herself upward.

The rest of the Fellowship was emerging in similar manners, their faces even more reddened by the snow. The exception, of course, was Aria, who looked pleasantly flushed, but still strikingly beautiful.

And despite the fact that they were in a very dangerous situation, Jane found herself feeling slightly jealous of the Elf's composure and grace.

"We must get off the mountain!" shouted Boromir as soon as he regained speech. "Make for the Gap of Rohan! Or take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us to close to Isengard!" protested Aragorn over the roar of the wind.

"We cannot pass over the mountain. Let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria," suggested Gimli.

"That is foolish!" shouted Aria. "Moria is dangerous! Better to chance the Gap of Rohan!" Legolas looked as though he agreed with Aria, which further irritated the agitated Dwarf. In order to avoid an argument, Gandalf quickly passed the decision to Frodo, who, after a moment of thought, declared that they should go through the mines.

And despite the fact that Jane was aware of the horror that awaited them in Moria, it didn't seem quite as horrible as the harsh cold of Caradhras.

*

The journey down the mountain was more tiring, despite the fact that they had the advantage of going downhill. Legolas and Aria managed the trek with a certain amount of grace, but the rest of the party was decidedly less coordinated and much more prone to falling down.

They set up camp for the night at the foot of the mountain. Jane attempted to help Sam prepare dinner, but was quickly relieved of her duties when the hobbit noticed her sluggish movements and fogged state of mind. Jane halfheartedly gnawed on a tasteless piece of stale bread before giving up and crawling into her sleeping roll for the evening.

Morning came much too quickly for Jane, despite the fact that they rose later than usual. She was also disappointed to discover that yesterday's sniffles and sore throat had grown into a full-blown cold overnight.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Aria when she got her first look at Jane. "You are ill!"

"It's just a head cold," said Jane, conscious of the fact that her speaking voice had dropped to an octave normally reserved for Barry White.

"I will make you some tea," declared Aria.

"Really, it's fine," protested Jane.

Aria, of course, refused to listen and quickly created some sort of bizarre and odd-smelling mixture that she claimed had been in use since ancient times. And despite the fact that it tasted disgusting, Jane did have to admit that it did help to reduce the ache in her throat.

"Aria would be less annoying if she weren't always _right_," Jane thought to herself as she finished off the tea.

Breakfast was a short and subdued affair and the group set off fairly quickly. Contrary to the implications of the movie, Moria was a good fifteen miles away from Caradhras, meaning at least a day of hiking ahead of them, which Jane was not looking forward to. Aria, of course, immediately set off ahead of the group and Jane didn't bother to try and stop her, as she wasn't really feeling up to working on character development. She allowed her pace to be more sluggish than usual, which put her near the back of the procession. In normal circumstances, this would have made her slightly nervous, but her cold had made her feel pretty apathetic in general.

"You shouldn't be walking alone," a voice advised. Jane started. Legolas had approached her unnoticed and had fallen into step beside her.

"I can still see Gandalf," she replied, gesturing to the wizard who was about fifty feet ahead of her.

"You're hardly in a condition to defend yourself," he observed.

"I have a head cold, not a missing limb," stated Jane tartly.

Legolas gave a slight smile.

They continued in silence for a good while, which Jane appreciated, given the state of her throat and the fact that her last conversation with the Elf had been terribly uncomfortable. There was also the added fact that her cold made her feel sleepy, stupid, and in no condition for an evasive conversation with a persistent Elf.

"Should we have made for the Gap of Rohan?" Legolas finally said.

Jane frowned. "I don't know. I'm really not the best person to consult on such things."

Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"You can't honestly believe that I have any more knowledge than Gandalf or Aragorn," she stated exasperatedly.

"You disliked the mountain," observed Legolas.

"Well, yes. It was a cold and miserable experience."

"It was stronger than that"

"Well, I _strongly_ dislike the cold," she countered.

"You don't want to go into the mines, either," he pointed out.

Jane tried to repress a shiver.

"Well of course not. Everyone has heard the stories. No one would go in there happily—except for Gimli, perhaps."

He glanced at her sideways, as though he didn't quite believe her.

"Do you really think that I would keep such knowledge to myself?" she demanded.

"Foresight is a very…difficult gift," he stated.

"One that I don't possess."

He looked as though he were on the brink of another question. Jane held up her hand.

"I don't mean to be rude, but perhaps we could postpone this interrogation? I'm certainly no closer to convincing you and I'm afraid my voice is going to give out soon."

Legolas nodded. "Until later, then."

"I can't wait," replied Jane wryly. The Elf gave a slight smile.

The pair continued on in an amicable silence for the duration of the hike, for which Jane was grateful.

*

They reached Moria as night was falling. The lake and walls looked as Jane had expected them to, but she was slightly surprised by the smell—the area had a pervasive odor of stagnant water and dead fish mingled with a harsh, earthy scent that she couldn't quite identify. The air was dry and stale, as though no one had been there for ages. Jane swallowed and tried to repress a shudder.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gimli stated as they rounded the lake, tapping the walls with his axe.

"Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten," agreed Gandalf.

"Why does that not surprise me?" said Legolas quietly.

"A Dwarf could not find his own nose if it weren't attached to his face," laughed Aria.

"Aria…" warned Jane, forgetting the formalities for a moment.

"Now listen here—" began Gimli with a growl.

Aragorn cleared his throat loudly and the rest of Gimli's reproach was lost in an incoherent grumble. Gandalf had ignored the argument entirely and was tracing his weathered hands along the walls.

"Well, let's see…Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight," he murmured. At that moment, the clouds parted and the moonlight shone through, illuminating the doors and the runes etched carefully onto the stone. "It reads: 'The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter.'"

"What do you s'pose that means?" asked Merry.

"Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open," explained Gandalf. He cleared his throat and spoke loudly and clearly in what Jane assumed to be Elvish.

The doors stayed motionless. Gandalf looked perplexed. Jane allowed the wizard a few more tries before sitting down on a nearby rock. She was tired and well aware that they would be there for a little while at least. She was fairly content to sit there and do nothing, as it put a longer time between them and the challenges that waited within. During this time, Bill the Pony was set free to the intense dismay of Sam while Merry and Pippin occupied themselves with throwing rocks into the water until Aragorn advised them not to. Aria spent her time talking aimlessly to Jane, who was only half-listening.

"It's a riddle," declared Frodo some time later. Jane stiffened slightly. "Speak 'friend' and enter. What's the Elvish word for friend?"

"_Mellon_."

With a low groan the doors parted and swung opened slowly, as though they had been shut for a very long time. Jane stood up and cautiously joined the assembly as they began to file into the mine behind Gandalf.

The moonlight cast a very pale and weak light into the open mines. The air smelled stale and dusty with a pervasive hint of decay. Aria looked supremely uncomfortable.

"This is folly," she murmured. "The Dwarf—"

"Don't aggravate him," hissed Jane under her breath. Aria raised an eyebrow. "It wouldn't be helpful right now."

Gimli was unaware of their conversation and was loudly extolling the various virtues and luxuries of Moria, despite the fact that it was becoming increasingly clear that the place had been abandoned for many years.

"This is no mine…" Boromir stated as more light illuminated the area. "It's a tomb."

And although she had been expecting it, Jane was slightly unprepared to have cobwebbed and rotten Dwarf and Orc corpses at such close proximinities. It seemed that once they became visible in the light, the odor of decay became stronger. Gimli began to wail and Jane felt bile rise in her throat. Legolas snatched an arrow from the ribcage of one of the bodies.

"Goblins," he declared, tossing the arrow aside.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," said Boromir. "We never should have come here! Now get out of here, get out!"

"Between a rock and a hard place," Jane murmured, thinking of the creature they would be meeting momentarily. Legolas looked at her strangely.

"_Frodo_!"

Legolas' gaze was abruptly broken by a series of screams and shouts as a long tentacle dragged Frodo by the ankle toward the lake.

Jane was surprised by how quickly and seamlessly the group sprang into action, like a well-oiled machine. Predictably, Aria was the first to leap out of the mines after Frodo, swinging her sword with an unnatural kind of grace and precision. Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas were quick to follow.

Jane was immediately confronted with the fact that she had absolutely no idea what to do. Battles with giant kraken had not exactly been covered in her combat training with Aragorn. Not only that, but the entire battle seemed to be unfolding exceedingly _fast_. She had no idea where to go or what to do. There were no clever camera angles or other cinematic tricks to show where the most action was happening or where she was needed—in fact, the fight was over before Jane even realized it. Aria was suddenly at her side and dragging her along by the wrist as Gandalf shouted for them to return to the mines. She stumbled into the dark, trying to avoid thinking about _what _it was that she was tripping on. There was a crashing and rumbling behind her as the doors crumbled and the darkness suddenly became complete.

"We now have but one choice."

A soft light from the end of Gandalf's staff illuminated the area and Jane was horrified to discover that she had stuck her foot in the middle of a ribcage. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard—there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world. Quietly now—it's a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

Jane gulped as the group began to move forward. Now things would get serious.

*

'Dark' was barely an apt description of Moria. Jane had never experienced darkness that was so _creepy_. The flickering light from their torches did little to dispel the blackness that surrounded them and Jane felt as though she were constantly being watched by something unfriendly. She began to regret that she had been so negative about the hike up Caradhras—at least there was light. And scenery, for that matter. In Moria the only thing to look at was darkness and stone. In such a setting it is very easy to let the mind wander to the darker parts of the imagination.

Another disadvantage to traveling in Moria was that Jane's entire concept of time was thrown off. There was no way to measure minutes and hours while tiptoeing through endless tunnels. Jane mentally added a wristwatch to her list of things that she wished Roger had packed. They walked until Jane felt she would collapse and then they walked some more. Finally they made camp in a small cavern slightly off the path that they had been following. Jane pushed an abandoned pickaxe out of the way and immediately fell asleep. She had many uneasy dreams filled with dark faceless shapes.

The good news was that when she awoke, her sore throat had all but disappeared and her stuffy nose had been downgraded to a little congestion.

"Perhaps Aria's tea has some merit," Jane grumpily conceded to herself.

*

They found themselves in Dwarrowdelf much sooner than Jane expected and she found herself once again confronted with an unpleasant wave of nausea. She tried to look at the city in awe as the others did, but she found herself spending most of her energy on not vomiting.

"Are you ill?" asked Legolas, the very last person Jane wanted to inquire after her health.

"No. Um…looking up—it made me dizzy," she lied, gesturing at the impossibly high ceilings. "I'm fine."

Legolas nodded, although Jane swore he was taking note of this incident and storing it for future reference.

However, Gimli's abrupt exclamation and sudden sprint to an adjoining room halted any further thought on the matter.

"Gimli!"

The wizard ran after the errant Dwarf, the rest of the party following closely behind him. Jane entered the small side room and glanced around warily. It was smaller than she thought it was and the scent of decay was much stronger. She immediately disliked it and wished she had waited for the others outside of the room. However, such an action seemed slightly disrespectful and she knew what would soon be gathering outside that room, so she held her ground.

Gimli had fallen to his knees and was weeping over what Jane knew to be a tomb, another disconcerting feature of the creepy room. However, having spent over a month experiencing mainly gruffness from the Dwarf, she found herself slightly moved by his open display of grief.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria,'" Gandalf read from the engraved runes. "He is dead, then. It is as I feared."

He was now reaching for the large record book clutched in the hands of a nearby corpse. Gimli was praying quietly. Jane's stomach did an unpleasant somersault and she felt her spine stiffen.

"We must move on. We cannot linger," Legolas murmured to Aragorn, though Jane noticed he was also carefully gauging her reaction. She tried to relax.

"There is evil here—I can sense it," stated Aria. Jane thought this was a slightly pointless statement, as the creepy little room unnerved everyone present.

"'They have taken the bridge and the second hall.'"

Jane shivered. Gandalf was reading from the large tome. The inevitable was swiftly approaching.

"'We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long.'"

She glanced up. Pippin had begun wandering over toward the well. She desperately wanted to warn him.

"'The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep.'"

Danger grew more imminent as Pippin approached the skeleton. Warning him became increasingly more appealing to Jane.

"'We cannot get out."

Jane struggled with herself. It was so preventable.

"A Shadow moves in the dark."

"Surely it would be more harmful _not _to stop him," Jane reasoned with herself.

"We cannot get out."

Pippin reached toward the skeleton.

"They are coming."

The words came out before she could think about it any further.

"Pippin, d—"

_Crash._

It was too late.

The silence that followed the skeleton and bucket's clamorous descent down the wall was both deafening and terrifying. Jane felt more like throwing up than she had before as the silence pressed heavily on her ears.

"Fool of a Took!" scolded Gandalf, apparently believing the ensuing silence merely signified a close call. "Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!"

"Oh come now, he didn't mean any harm," protested Aria, placing a comforting hand on Pippin's shoulder. "Really—"

"Aria, _shut up_!" hissed Jane.

Again, the words came out before she could think and ten pairs of eyes turned to her in surprise. Jane had the presence of mind to blush before she was interrupted.

_Boom_.

She felt the blush in her cheeks pale abruptly.

_Boom!_

It was louder. She couldn't breathe.

_BOOM._ The drumming suddenly increased in rhythm and dynamic and Jane's knees seemed to be quaking in time to the beat. Frodo withdrew his sword, which had begun to glow a bright blue.

"Orcs!" declared Legolas, though Jane already knew what was approaching. Boromir had run to shut the door and narrowly missed being hit by two arrows in the process. Aria had sprung catlike into action, her sword drawn and ready. Jane briefly noted that it was the kind of pose that one would see in heroic portraits—it personified both grace and power. Aragorn and Legolas had prepared themselves in similar manners and Gimli had leapt up onto the tomb, growling and clearly eager to avenge his kinsmen.

Jane found herself huddled behind Gandalf with the four hobbits. Sword grasped tightly in her trembling hand, she had the presence of mind to be slightly embarrassed by her cowardice.

That was the last cognizant thought she remembered having in Moria.

As soon as they reached the door, adrenaline coursed through her veins. Locked in a 'fight-or-flight' mentality, it was difficult for her to express any other thought than utter fear and the intense desire for survival. There were no moral grey areas—it was kill or be killed. And the fear of _being_ killed was enough justification to kill another creature, no matter how reprehensible the action would seem in the clearer light of reason.

It was this basic, ancient instinct that saved Jane in this fight. She was not a strong warrior to be sure—in fact, it was debatable whether or not she could accurately be described as a 'warrior.' Regardless, her skill with a sword was barely developed at best, and her survival in combat was something she had worried about from the very beginning of the quest. However, adrenaline and fear will do strange things to a person and when the Orcs broke through the flimsy decaying wooden doors and charged murderously at that unlikely party of eleven, Jane found herself responding with sword strokes that were surprisingly sure and rather effective. Nevertheless, it was a good thing that she was wearing armor, because adrenaline is not entirely effective as a defense strategy.

The entrance of the cave troll complicated things, of course. However, the talents of Legolas and Aria ensured that the beast was in capable hands, leaving Jane free to concern herself with considerably smaller opponents. The noise in that tiny room was clamorous and it was only after Legolas dispatched the troll with an arrow to the brain that Jane became aware of the fact that she was still alive. Immediately after that thought came the realization that Frodo had been speared by the cave troll and was, for all appearances, dead. Jane crowded around the hobbit with the others and was the only one who was not surprised when he rolled over and gave a little cough.

"He's alive!" declared Sam happily and incredulously as Frodo assured the others that he was uninjured.

"You should be dead. That spear would have skewered a wild boar!" declared Aragorn.

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," declared Gandalf, his eyes twinkling as though they were in no immediate danger to speak of. Frodo sheepishly opened his shirt to reveal the beautiful mithril armor, which Gimli immediately exclaimed over. Despite this happy moment, Jane was still horribly frightened and she felt her breath hitch in her throat as the sounds of many footsteps interrupted the gathering.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" shouted Gandalf.

They took off at a run, but whatever speed they had immediately appeared futile in light of the fact that the Orcs were swarming the general area, crawling down the ceiling pillars and seeming to emerge from the very shadows themselves, snarling and hissing with their weapons drawn and ready. It was not long before the small party of eleven was surrounded on all sides by a sea of enemies. Jane felt bile rise in her throat and tried to remind herself that nothing would come of this, that the Orcs would soon be frightened away.

And although this thought was meant to calm her fears, a stronger and more penetrating fear welled up inside her chest when she remembered what it was that would frighten the Orcs away.

As though it had been waiting for that particular cue, a low rumbling roar cut through the high-pitched jabber of the Orcs. An expression that Jane could only describe as fear passed over their reptilian features. The roar sounded again, louder and perhaps deeper than before. The Orcs fled into a hasty retreat, squealing as they went, allowing Jane to get a proper look at the unholy light that had begun to shine from around the corner. She instinctively backed away.

"What is this new devilry?"

"A Balrog," replied Gandalf. Jane was immediately struck by the uncharacteristic and wholly unsettling dread that crept into his voice. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you."

Jane started sprinting before he shouted at them to run.

*

The entire adventure on the railing-free stairs was an incident that Jane could hardly bear remembering. Her fear of heights kicked in immediately and the only reason she made it across the precipitous gap was because Boromir physically threw her across to Gandalf and Legolas. Aria, of course, managed the entire thing with the grace of a prima ballerina, even making two trips across to help ferry the hobbits while still having time to dispatch of several of the Orcs shooting arrows the struggling party on the stairs.

Jane also discovered that Gimli's comical exclamations of "_Nobody_ tosses a Dwarf!" and "NOT the beard!" were decidedly unfunny when one was actually standing on an ancient staircase over a bottomless chasm. Needless to say, she was pleased when they left the thing crumbling into the abyss below.

Jane greeted the sight of the bridge in the distance with both relief and fear. Relief because it meant they would soon be leaving Moria behind them and fear because the bridge was impossibly narrow and incredibly scary in real life. Before she could ponder the situation further, Aria was urging her across what Jane had renamed as the Balance Beam from Hell.

She kept her eyes glued to her feet, focusing as hard as she could on moving quickly and safely across the bridge, willing her legs not to collapse. The other side seemed impossibly far away and the journey seemed to take ridiculously long. Finally, _finally_ the end was within reach and she was soon reunited with a surface that was solid and infinitely more reassuring.

Then and only then did she look behind her, a decision that she determined to be wise when her legs promptly gave way upon seeing the Balrog.

A Balrog is obviously much less frightening when it is a computerized animation. In the movie theater there's no way for the audience to truly experience the pure terror of staring at something that appeared to be made of molten fire. No technology allows you to feel not only the heat, but also the evil that emanates from a Balrog.

And yet Gandalf stood about midway across the bridge and staring angrily into its fiery countenance, a feat that was all the more impressive in real life.

"You cannot pass!"

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried out, his small voice nearly lost in the echoing cavern.

Gandalf's back was straight, his robes billowing in the heat that radiated from the Balrog.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! Dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!"

The Balrog roared and drew a flaming sword, swinging it at Gandalf with what seemed to be unstoppable force. The wizard blocked the fiery weapon with his staff and sparks flew and crackled dangerously in the air.

"Go back to the Shadow! _YOU SHALL NOT PASS!_"

Gandalf slammed his staff down, emitting a bright white light. The Balrog retreated momentarily before withdrawing its whip and stepping forward, placing one fiery foot on the bridge. The stone began to crumble and fall, taking the Balrog with it. Gandalf exhaled heavily and began to turn around. For the tiniest moment, Jane thought that it would be different. It was so easy to think that the battle had been won, that Gandalf would cross the remainder of the bridge and escape from Moria with the rest of them.

_Crack_.

Suddenly Gandalf was knocked off his feet and yanked backward, grasping the very edge of the bridge with his weathered hands. For a moment, it appeared he would be able to pull himself up and for that moment, Jane clung to the false hope that Gandalf would wait long enough for Boromir and Aragorn to run and pull him to safety.

That hope evaporated as soon as his grey eyes turned on the frightened group in front of him.

"Fly, you fools!"

And suddenly he was gone—Jane did not see him let go. She blinked and he had fallen. Frodo was screaming and the others were hastening toward the exit. Jane took a deep breath and ran after them into the blinding sunlight.


	5. Into the Woods

**Disclaimer**: Nope. Not mine. Still.

**A/N:** Special thanks to the lovely reviewers of Chapter 4 and the lovely people who took the time to add this story to their alerts/favorites. It kind of made my day.

Secondly, I've been following the extended version of the film for dialogue/events. There was an added scene in Lothlorien where Haldir talks to the Fellowship and tries to turn them away because they bring Great Evil with them in the form of jewelry. I ended up not using it in this chapter for flow issues. Also, I'm pretty sure Legolas is wearing different clothes than he was in the previous scene and that always bothered me a little because seriously, when did he have time to change?

Finally, I hope you all have a joyful, restful, and safe holiday season.

_Chapter 5: Into the Woods_

Jane was not particularly proud of the fact that her immediate reaction upon exiting the mines was to fall to her knees and vomit rather spectacularly. She wasn't sure whether her sudden nausea was caused by what had just happened inside the mines or by the realization that her clothes and hands were splattered with the black blood of Orcs. Whatever the reason, she was indisposed for a good minute or so and quite embarrassed afterward. Everyone else was mourning in their own way—Gimli through anger, the hobbits through tears, Aria through crystalline tears that subtly enhanced her own natural beauty. Although vomiting was not the typical response to the (apparent) death of a friend, Jane reasoned that she probably looked awful enough to pass for grieving.

Aragorn was the only member of the party to retain some sort of semblance of calmness, quickly calling for the scattered members of the Fellowship to reassemble. Jane shakily got to her feet and reached for her canteen.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" protested Boromir, almost wearily. Jane thought he looked a little older than he had before their ill-fated journey through Moria.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlorien," reasoned Aragorn firmly. "Come Boromir. Legolas, Gimli, get them up."

The party was quickly reassembled and they took off at a brisk pace that made Jane's head spin. Like most of the other locations she had visited in Middle-Earth, the woods of Lothlorien were much farther away than Peter Jackson would have the viewer believe. The fatigue from their journey through the mines did not make the route to Lothlorien seem any easier and Jane's decreased stamina had the added effect of making minutes feel like hours. She was not entirely sure how she managed to make it to Lothlorien with the others—about halfway there her legs began to feel like lead—but she felt a large sense of accomplishment that she was able to make it there unassisted and all in one piece.

"Stay close, young hobbits!" Gimli whispered as they crossed over the edge of the woods. "They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell and are never seen again!"

"Pardon me, Master Dwarf," said Aria icily. "But that 'Elf-witch' is my grandmother."

Gimli snorted, as though this particular declaration explained a lot about Aria. An attractive angry flush rose in Aria's cheeks and her eyes flashed a bright violet.

"Aria," interjected Jane quietly.

"Mind your place, Jane," she replied sharply.

Jane was surprised and then supremely irritated by Aria's retort. Evidently Aria was angry that Jane had told her to shut up in Moria. Having just gone through hell and high water, Jane failed to give a damn about any hurt feelings—however, she was really too tired to start a fight about it.

"Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily!" declared Gimli in what appeared to be a move designed to specifically irritate Aria. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

Unlike the Dwarf-tossing debacle in Moria, Jane found that Gimli nearly walking into a drawn bow and arrow was just as funny in person as it was in the movies. However, her mirth was rather short lived when she discovered that another archer had silently and suddenly appeared next to _her_, his arrow aimed at her throat.

"This whole 'comedy-followed-by-immediate-danger' shtick has _really_ got to stop," Jane thought grumpily to herself as she regarded the archer warily.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," drawled a blonde Elf (whose name Jane could not remember) as he emerged silently and seamlessly from the surrounding area. Aragorn addressed him in Elvish.

"Aragorn! These woods are perilous! We should go back!" declared Gimli, looking supremely uncomfortable surrounded by armed Elves.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood," said the Elf vaguely. "You cannot go back. Come, she is waiting."

A derisive snort broke through the following silence.

"Really, Haldir," scolded Aria. "Enough with the theatrics. These are friends."

The Elf called Haldir looked mildly irritated.

"Lady Nightingale," he said tersely, "we are under orders. I suggest you hold your tongue."

Aria was not the only one taken aback by this statement. Jane was as well—in her fan fic, Aria's relationship to Lady Galadriel caused Haldir and the other Elves to treat the Fellowship with deference and respect. Jane didn't want to jump to conclusions, but she thought that this might be a sign of progress. While Aria's "spirit" had irritated others in the past, she still almost always got her way. Jane indulged herself in a private victory dance in her head as the Elves began leading them down the path deeper into the wood. It was a small victory, a small step, to be sure, but a victory nonetheless. The only real downside was that Aria felt justified in pouting as they made their way through the woods. Jane focused on the scenery and tried to ignore the unattractive sounds of Aria grumbling at Haldir in Elvish.

In a word, Lothlorien was beautiful. In several words, it was beautiful in a way that was unlike anything Jane had ever seen. The trees were beautiful in the typical and natural sense, but there was also some sort of unidentifiable sparkle that made them utterly breathtaking. Despite the fact that their escorts were still armed and capable of drawing their weapon at half a second's notice, Jane felt remarkably peaceful. The forest seemed to exude the most soothing kind of calmness. The smell of the woods was equally enthralling, though Jane couldn't identify a particular scent—the best descriptor she could come up with was that it smelled like sunshine and summer evening. It was familiar and strange all at the same time. She wished she could bottle it and keep it with her always.

As they went deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to grow taller and wider. The sheer size suggested that there must be magic at work, but at the same time they seemed too organic to be fake. They journeyed deeper and Jane began to see elegant stairways that curved up around the tree trunks and led to equally elegant structures. The way they were constructed was so natural that the dwellings sometimes appeared to be part of the forest, as though the trees had spontaneously grown houses along with branches and leaves.

At last, they approached what seemed to be the biggest tree yet. Its staircase was slightly grander than the others and Jane knew immediately that this was where they would meet Galadriel and Celeborn. The stairs were smooth and without railings, but Jane felt considerably safer there than she had on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. However, she still made a conscious effort not to look down as they climbed higher and higher. They finally reached the top of the stairs and Haldir led them into the small circular room. A simple white staircase led up from the room, though Jane couldn't be sure where it led.

Jane was not at all prepared to meet Galadriel and Celeborn. The visual image was what she expected—the soft glowing white light that seemed to emanate from the couple, the strange otherworldliness that accompanied them. However, it was quite another thing to actually see someone who appeared to be glowing. It defied all of what Jane had been taught about the natural world, and for that reason it was both frightening and fascinating. Even subtracting the whole glowing phenomenon, both Galadriel and Celeborn were still much more striking than Jane had thought possible. They were both beautiful, to be sure, but what really knocked Jane for a loop was how timeless they seemed. Jane looked at them and could _feel_ their wisdom, _sense_ all that they had seen and heard over their long lives. It was the kind of thing that was so beautiful and breathtaking that Jane didn't even care how pathetic her short human life seemed in comparison.

Aria made as if to step forward. Galadriel looked at her with her piercing blue gaze and Aria relaxed, slightly resigned.

"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone," said Celeborn in place of a greeting. His voice was a light tenor, rich and appealing to the ear. "Ten there are here, yet eleven there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into Shadow." Galadriel's voice was a low rich alto, beautiful even at a whisper.

"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame," said Legolas. "A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," said Galadriel. "We do not yet know his full purpose."

Jane felt oddly soothed by Galadriel's words as her gaze shifted to Gimli.

"Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Gloin," she continued. Jane watched Gimli's expression out of the corner of her eye. He was rapt and still, as though he were both frightened and awed. "For the world has grown full of peril and in all lands love is now mingled with grief."

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost," interjected Celeborn. Despite the fact that his views were slightly pessimistic, Jane couldn't help but feel comforted by the timbre of his voice.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife," said Galadriel cryptically. "Stray but a little, and it will fail to the ruin of all."

Her gaze was fixed on Boromir as she said this. Although Jane could not see his face, his discomfort seemed to roll off of him in tangible waves.

"Yet hope remains while the Company is true." Her steely blue gaze moved, possibly to Sam this time, though Jane couldn't be sure.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace."

Sleep. Sleep sounded magnificent to Jane. And a bath! When was the last time she had a proper bath? Forget safety and beauty, attending to personal hygiene was the best part of Lothlorien.

Jane suddenly had the sensation that someone was looking at her. She looked up and her eyes met Galadriel's. She wasn't certain, but there seemed to be a hint of a smile in her eyes, as though she had heard everything Jane had just thought.

*

Jane found herself falling in love with Lothlorien even before she had her bath. Their quarters for their stay in Lothlorien were in the hollow of a tree. The beds were feather mattresses tucked into the natural grooves and curves of the tree. It was charming and wonderfully homey. But as lovely as it was, Jane's mind was set on a particular task. She dumped her things on the first unoccupied bed she could find and quickly approached Aragorn.

"Where can I get a bath?"

The Ranger chuckled at her focus and pointed at two white tents.

"The smaller one is for you and Aria," he said. Jane thanked him and quickly darted off toward the tents.

She was relieved to find that there were two bathtubs and a dividing curtain that could be pulled across the center of the tent for privacy. There were two dresses set out—one very soft and silvery and the other a muted green. The silver one was clearly made for someone taller than Jane, so she selected the green one. She pulled the curtain across the center of the tent and made sure that it was tied securely to the wall of the tent. She pulled her dirty clothes off and dumped them without ceremony in a heap on the floor. She tried to remove the most obvious signs of dirt from her skin with the washbasin someone had set up by the bath, so as not to make the bathwater completely disgusting. When she felt that she had done an adequate job, she carefully stepped into the water and slowly sank down.

Jane could hardly remember the last time she had bathed in hot water. She felt her muscles loosen and relax, the hot water easing aches and pains that she wasn't aware she had. The tub was deep enough for her to completely submerge herself, which she did, enjoying the muted silence the water provided, her hair fanning out in all directions.

She surfaced and sat for a moment, letting the water warm her bones and soothe the soreness from battle. She felt sleepy and relaxed, yet oddly clearheaded. She found her thoughts wandering toward character development.

Aria, it seemed, was currently not too pleased with Jane. Jane decided this must be progress, given that Aria's "spirit" had never manifested itself in temper before—it was always a lovable sort of feistiness that didn't ruffle too many feathers. Also significant was the fact that she had not gotten her way, something that seemingly never happened to her. Jane reflected on what her personal contributions had been. So far she had mainly encouraged Aria not to stick her nose in other people's business and to let others fight their own battles—perhaps Aria not getting her way was a sign that it was working? Jane mused for a moment. What else could she do? What else prevented Aria from being a full character?

At that moment, Jane heard Aria enter the tent, humming quietly to herself. Had it been a normal day, Aria would have started talking immediately. However, Aria was oddly silent, most likely still stinging from the earlier events of the day. The humming (which Jane had decided did _not_ count as singing) was a pleasant substitution for the endless chatter and much more conducive to thinking.

"She is rather shallow," thought Jane to herself. "Not in the materialistic sense of the word, but she doesn't seem to think often. Her actions seem impulsive…maybe inspired by her 'spirit' as opposed to careful reflection or thought."

Jane paused for a moment. How would she tackle this issue? It's one thing to tell people to mind their own business, but another to tell them to think deep and meaningful thoughts.

Jane suddenly felt a huge surge of empathy for philosophy professors everywhere.

*

Jane emerged from her bath about an hour later feeling refreshed and relaxed. The simple muted green dress was a welcome break from the dirty tunic and pants she had been wearing. The last time Jane had worn a dress was in Rivendell and she found herself unused to the garment in an oddly pleasant sort of way.

"You're looking well, Miss Baker," commented Sam as she reentered the little hollow.

"I feel much more civilized," said Jane, sitting down on her bed. "And real featherbeds! I'm going to become spoiled."

"We won't be here long enough for that," said Aragorn. He looked as though he had also had a bath and had a smoking pipe balanced in his left hand.

"How long?" asked Jane.

"Long enough to regain our strength," replied Aragorn.

"A month then?" asked Pippin hopefully. Aragorn grinned.

"I'm afraid not, Pippin."

"Perhaps they'll let us take the featherbeds with us," said Jane.

Pippin groaned and flopped backward onto his bed. "I wish."

Jane looked up and noticed that Aria was fast approaching the little hollow, looking stunning in the silver dress. Not really in a mood for fighting or awkwardness, Jane stood up.

"I think I'll go for a walk," she said casually.

"Don't wander far," advised Aragorn.

"I won't."

She passed Aria as she exited the hollow and quickly slipped off down a small path that seemed worth exploring. She had scarcely had any time to herself since she arrived in Middle-earth and found herself enjoying the solitude immensely.

Jane walked a little while, making note of her progress through the wood so as not to get lost. Lothlorien was beautiful and utterly calming. Jane felt all the residual stress from Moria roll off her shoulders as she observed the quiet calm around her.

She found herself standing in front of a small glassy pond. She sat down in the cool grass and stretched her bare feet, trying to remember the last time she had gone barefoot. It seemed like such a long time ago. She leaned back against a nearby tree and shut her eyes for a moment. She felt safe.

Safe. The word seemed strange—in fact it had fallen into disuse in the past month or so. She felt that her life had been divided into three categories: about to be in danger, in danger, or just out of danger. There was no 'safe'—just a cycle of danger.

Safety was a lot nicer than Jane had remembered.

She allowed her mind to wander, losing her sense of time in the stillness of the pond, the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.

Someone cleared his throat and broke Jane's reverie. She looked over her shoulder toward the source of the sound.

"Hello, Prince Legolas. Were you following me?"

"No, I happened on you by chance."

Jane smiled and turned her attention back to the pond. She was aware of Legolas taking a seat beside her only because of the slight shadow he cast.

"You should be resting," he stated.

"I'm afraid my mind is rather occupied tonight," Jane replied.

"With what matters?" asked Legolas. Jane was slightly certain that he would attempt to turn this opportunity into another one of his interrogations and decided that he would do her best to distract him in that attempt.

"Death," she lied. The Elf looked at her in slight surprise. "It—er…I suppose it makes me rather uncomfortable."

Legolas looked at his hands and did not say anything.

"Death makes you uncomfortable, too," she stated before she could really think the statement through. "I'm sorry—that was rude."

Legolas shook his head. "I did not take offense."

Jane paused for a moment before continuing.

"Do you think that's stupid of me to think like that?"

Legolas looked surprised. "Why would it be stupid?"

"For a mortal, I mean," she clarified. "It seems like there's some sort of implication that mortals must be more comfortable with death because it's something that happens with a certain amount of regularity in their own lives."

"I don't believe that's true," replied Legolas.

"Why not?" asked Jane. "Familiarity breeds comfort, even if the familiar is unpleasant."

"Some things can't be familiar," he said. "I believe death is one of those things."

"I suppose you could be right." They sat in silence for a moment. "You know, it's strange—I just…I just realized…I've never killed anything before. Apart from fleas and the like. But never something so—I don't want to say 'human' because they're not, but I can't deny there's a sort of similarity at least in figure…but I never…never in anger…" She trailed off.

"Do you feel guilty?" he asked.

Jane shook her head. "No. I…it had to be done. Some things must happen, regardless of whether or not I find them pleasant."

"And Gandalf?"

Jane paused, trying to ignore the fact that the Elf was observing her carefully.

"G-Gandalf…" She was surprised to hear herself choke on his name. "Gandalf's purpose is beyond me. I…I…" She trailed off.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you," said Legolas.

Jane shook her head. "No, it's…I suppose I haven't quite absorbed it yet."

Legolas paused. "Did you—"

"I'm afraid you overestimate my abilities once again," she replied quietly.

"You were particularly…affected in the mines," observed Legolas.

"I've never had much courage in dark places," admitted Jane. Legolas did not look particularly convinced. "Why do you insist on this matter, Prince Legolas?"

"You are unlike any servant I've ever encountered."

"Perhaps you've encountered remarkably dull servants."

"I've lived a very long time, Jane," Legolas pointed out.

"Well, perhaps your luck is turning as of late," suggested Jane. "Perhaps you are destined to encounter more interesting servants now."

Legolas allowed a slight smile.

"You concede that it's possible?" queried Jane.

"I concede nothing," replied Legolas.

"Why are you the only one to possess such strange theories? No one else has suspected me of possessing gifts that are beyond me," asked Jane. "Either you are overly perceptive or the others are overly dense. I think the former is most likely."

"Perhaps," stated Legolas. "However, I believe that some of the others have information that I do not."

It was clear he was referring to Gandalf. Jane shook her head.

"What can I say to convince you otherwise?" asked Jane.

"That I don't know."

"I will find something," vowed Jane.

"I look forward to it."

There was an amicable pause. Jane quickly searched her mind for topics other than foresight.

"What were you like as a child, Prince Legolas?" she asked suddenly. The Elf looked surprised once again.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I have a sneaking suspicion you were one of those children who always asked 'But _why_?' I don't think you were easily satisfied with short answers."

He smiled. "You're not entirely off the mark."

"Tell me about it, then," said Jane, folding her knees under her. Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please. For nearly a week you have found it necessary to pepper _me_ with questions. It's your turn now, Highness."

Legolas smiled again. "I'll indulge you if you stop with the formalities."

"I can live with that," agreed Jane.

Jane sat and listened to Legolas talk for a good amount of time. He was a good storyteller and his voice was comforting. Jane thought she could have listened for a good while, had sleep not started to creep at the edges of her vision.

"You should rest," Legolas stated as Jane stifled a yawn.

"Yes, I should," agreed Jane. She carefully got to her feet. "It was nice to ask you questions for a change, Legolas. Perhaps in the future I will hear you talk more and ask less."

"Unlikely," replied the Elf. Jane grinned.

"Goodnight."

*

The next day in Lothlorien was beautifully lazy. Lothlorien, Jane decided, was much like being at a spa. She slept late and took as many baths as she could reasonably fit in. There was little for her to do, as most of the Fellowship's needs were seen to be the seemingly invisible servants of Lothlorien—during her entire time there, Jane never saw anyone so much as lift a broom, but the place was clean, food was always on the table, and the clothes were laundered and folded. Jane decided not to question the mechanics behind it and luxuriated in the various amenities afforded by Lothlorien.

The Fellowship seemed to be on a similar schedule of decompression and relaxation. The hobbits indulged in food, although Frodo was noticeably quieter—the others seemed to handle their grief by distracting themselves and others with songs and stories. Despite the fact that he claimed to be uncomfortable staying with the Elves, Gimli enjoyed himself in a similar manner. Jane suspected that his infatuation with Lady Galadriel also improved his temper. Boromir seemed unable to relax entirely—his encounter with Galadriel seemed to be constantly in his thoughts. Although Aragorn was not exactly prone to lounging around or singing, Jane thought that he looked less tired than usual. For all appearances, Legolas was virtually unchanged, apart from the fact that he looked better groomed. There were definite perks to immortality.

Aria was a little more relaxed than the Elven prince, but she had taken to ignoring Jane. Jane thought that this was taking it a little too far, but she thought it was best not to press the issue and allow the Elf to approach her about the problem.

Despite all the comforts and amenities of Lothlorien, Jane began to wonder if she was destined to have strange late night conversations the entire time she was in Lothlorien. Unable to sleep during her second night there (possibly due to the two naps she had taken that day), she found herself sitting at her little glassy pond again.

"Good evening, Jane."

The regal voice could only belong to one. Jane looked up. Lady Galadriel had entered the little clearing. Jane quickly scrambled to her feet.

"Good evening, my lady."

Galadriel gave a slight all-knowing smile that made Jane feel uncomfortable.

"Tell me, Jane," she said in her low and soothing voice, "how is Roger Morton faring these days?"

Jane's heart nearly stopped.

"Y-y-y-you…you know Roger Morton?" she stuttered incredulously. The Lady of the Wood gave another cryptic smile.

"Roger Morton is a great ally," she said ambiguously. Jane nodded mutely. "He has sent you here on a quest."

"Yes, my lady."

Galadriel gave another one of her strange smiles and Jane got the distinct sensation that the Elf knew a lot more than she was choosing to share. What she said next nearly knocked Jane off her feet.

"Will you look into the mirror?"

"Me?" The Elf gave a slight nod. "But I…I'm not really important…I'm not like…the others."

"You are on your own quest, Jane Baker. Your importance to this story should not be understated."

Jane shrugged. "I like to think it's secondary to destroying the Ring."

Another cryptic smile. "They are intertwined, Jane, and both quests must succeed."

"All right," she conceded warily. "I'll look."

"Follow me."

Galadriel walked smoothly and noiselessly across the forest floor, making Jane feel clumsy and loud in her wake. Jane wasn't entirely sure of where she was going and fervently hoped she'd be able to find her way back to the pond or some other familiar landmark.

They reached the clearing with the mirror in what seemed like a very short time, although Jane suspected that neither the clearing nor the mirror would be there if she went back to look for it later. Jane stood and waited while Galadriel filled a silver pitcher with water and then slowly and carefully transferred it to the basin in the middle of the clearing. Jane looked hesitantly at the Elf before stepping forward and looking into the mirror.

At first, only her reflection stared warily back at her. She held her own gaze and the reflection abruptly changed into Aria's face. The reflection morphed quickly into Roger Morton, then Rivendell, followed quickly by Gandalf. It then abruptly changed to some sort of fight—Jane couldn't recognize any of the figures crossing blades. Then there was an unrecognizable couple kissing in the rain, holding onto each other as though their lives depended on it. Then Aria's face, furious this time, followed quickly by Jane, who sat weeping in place she did not recognize. Then the Ring, spinning slowly on some surface as though it had been dropped quickly followed by Frodo weeping. Fighting again and then that strange couple…

Jane hastily looked away from the mirror. She wasn't sure why, but the faceless couple disturbed her—her heart felt tight in her chest and she found she was breathing heavily. She looked up at Galadriel, who was observing her carefully and impassively.

"Did you…did…do you know what it means?" asked Jane.

Galadriel gave a slight smile.

"The mirror shows many things…even I do not know all of its secrets," said Galadriel cryptically. "This vision is for you to interpret, Jane Baker."

"You couldn't give me a hint?" asked Jane. This time, Galadriel's smile looked more mirthful than all knowing.

"It is for you to interpret, Jane," she repeated.

"Well…I'll try," she conceded.

"Go rest," suggested Galadriel. "Do not trouble your mind tonight. That path will lead you back to where you came from."

Jane nodded. "Maybe that's a good idea. Goodnight, Lady Galadriel." She gave an awkward kind of curtsy.

"Goodnight, Jane."

Try as she might, Jane could not will herself to sleep once she returned to her bed in the little hollow. The vision in the mirror troubled her, mainly because she had absolutely no idea what it was supposed to mean. In fact, it made her more confused than ever—was the vision an indication that she was doing well developing Aria's character, or not? Did it even have anything to do with character development? Could it be that it was just a random collection of images from her subconscious? The possibilities seemed limitless. Finally, after what seemed like hours of tossing, turning, and analyzing, Jane felt sleep fall heavily upon her.

*

Shortly after her conversation with Galadriel, Jane found herself less troubled by sleeplessness and slept soundly and heavily through her remaining nights in Lothlorien. However, much like Ebenezer Scrooge, she was destined to have a third nighttime conversation.

It happened the night before they were due to leave Lothlorien. Jane had gone to bed particularly early, intent on getting as much sleep in her featherbed as possible. She was dreaming about what she saw in the mirror when someone insistently and purposefully shook her awake. She grumbled and tried to roll over.

"Jane!" hissed a melodious voice that could only belong to Aria Nightingale. Jane cracked one eye open, partly because she was surprised that Aria had suddenly decided to speak to her.

"Aria?"

"Could I have a word?" the Elf asked breathlessly.

"Sure…what is it?" Jane replied, stifling a yawn. Aria's eyes (currently a deep midnight blue) darted quickly to the side.

"Not here," she whispered. "Go for a walk with me?"

Jane sighed and assented, reluctantly leaving the comfort of her bed and stumbling to her feet. Aria lightly skipped off and Jane had to follow at a light jog in order to keep up. Jane wasn't entirely sure where the Elf was going (or how this qualified as a 'walk'), but Aria seemed to know the paths well.

Just when Jane was ready to stop running altogether and demand that Aria just spit it out, the Elf darted suddenly into a clearing. It was small, nearly unnoticeable to any passersby. There was not a pond as there was in Jane's clearing, but it still had the same aura of calmness and serenity. Aria gracefully situated herself on a soft bed of moss at the foot of a particularly large tree and patted the empty space next to her. Jane sat down warily next to the Elf.

"I used to come here when I was a child," said Aria with a small sigh. "I like to think of it as my secret place." She turned her gaze to Jane and her expression became decidedly sadder. "Oh, Jane, I'm so sorry, I've been horrid!"

"That's…that's all right," said Jane hesitantly, not entirely sure what was prompting this sudden and florid apology.

"You see…I thought…I thought you were angry with me—" began Aria.

"No, I was just frustrated at the moment," explained Jane. "But to be fair, it wasn't very kind…or appropriate, really."

"Now, Jane," scolded Aria lightly. "You are my friend—whatever you have to say is important to me. It was wrong of me to speak to you that way. And I suppose I do have a tendency to…speak recklessly."

Jane was slightly surprised. It was unlike Aria to recognize that she had flaws. More importantly, it was unlike Aria to recognize that her outspokenness could be bad. She allowed herself a second of speechlessness.

"Well…it's good to be…aware of yourself," Jane offered lamely.

"But the other reason I wanted to speak with you…" Aria seemed to have grown bored with the previous topic and her eyes were sparkling.

Jane nodded for her to go on. Aria took a deep breath, her lips curling up in a blissful smile.

"I am in _love_."

Jane felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach. What with all that had been going on, she had forgotten about the important realization that Aria was scheduled to have in Lothlorien.

"Really?" she managed. Aria failed to notice the slightly panicked tone in Jane's voice.

"Yes," she breathed happily.

"Er…can I ask with whom?" asked Jane, although she was already fairly certain of the answer. A lovely smile lit up Aria's face and she leaned in conspiratorially.

"With Prince Legolas, of course."

Jane was first struck by the slight pang of annoyance she felt at this declaration. She enjoyed the strange sort of friendship she had formed with Legolas over the past week or so. She resented this perceived intrusion—there were very few people in the Fellowship who she felt were able to view her outside of Aria's shadow, Legolas being one of them. This recent discovery of Aria's would undoubtedly complicate that.

The second thing that struck her was the suddenness of this declaration, the utter randomness that seemed to be driving it. Aria interacted with Legolas, but Jane had never noticed any kind of foundation to their relationship that could conceivably result in something that was "more than friends." At the moment, they seemed to be more acquaintances than anything else.

Jane kept her first reaction to herself. But before she could really give it proper thought, she gave voice to her second reaction.

"But…_why_?"

Aria looked pleasantly confused.

"What do you mean, Jane?" she asked. Jane immediately regretted having said anything—the ensuing conversation was going to be supremely awkward, no doubt.

"Well…" began Jane carefully, "forgive me if this is out of place, but I…I just haven't seen you spend very much time with Legolas."

Aria did not seem to be very offended.

"Why, Jane, we just had the most wonderful conversation this evening," she said.

"On what matter?" asked Jane.

"Oh, plans for tomorrow and such…really, I was so suddenly struck by my feelings that I can't quite remember."

"Do you think that's perhaps a little sudden?" asked Jane, trying to word the question as carefully as possible. Aria gave a bubbly laugh.

"What do you mean, Jane? Love is so unpredictable!"

"Well, I mean that you don't know him terribly well," said Jane, trying to tread as carefully as possible. "Perhaps you ought to take some time before you make any…big decisions."

Aria laughed again. Jane was simply relieved she wasn't taking offense.

"You can't help who you fall in love with, Jane," she said, as though she were talking to a child.

"That's true," replied Jane, "but you should be careful. This has been a trying time for everyone—it wouldn't be wise to just…leap into things. It would be better to wait."

Aria laughed again.

"Oh, Jane, _really_," she said, giggling as though Jane had just told a very funny joke. "_Me_ leap into things? I'm much too shy."

Jane had a very hard time believing this last part. Aria was many things—Jane would not count 'shy' among them.

"No," continued Aria, "I will bide my time and keep quiet for now. Well, perhaps with some subtle hints." She giggled. "But then next move is for Prince Legolas to make."

Jane stared at Aria as she collapsed into another fit of giggles and wondered what the hell she was going to do now.


	6. The End of the Beginning

**Disclaimer:** Once again, I failed to get the rights to _Lord of the Rings_ for Christmas. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for my birthday…

**A/N:** Once again, a giant THANK YOU to those who reviewed or took the time to add this story to their favorites or alert lists. Seriously—you guys are awesome. Sorry for the slight delay—I had another fic I had to attend to (shameless plug: like _Harry Potter_ fan fic? Check out my fic _A Fair Amount of Courage_).

_Chapter 6: The End of the Beginning_

Jane found it very strange and slightly ironic that it was she who was losing sleep over Aria Nightingale's love life.

She had spent her last night in Lothlorien staring into the darkness trying to figure out exactly what she was going to do about Aria's situation. Roger had said in his letter that Aria must fall in love. It was that qualifying statement—'with the _right_ person'—that had Jane concerned.

She did not think Legolas was the right person.

This was not a poor mark on his character in any sense—Jane respected the Elf, despite his habit of asking questions that were difficult for her to answer. But Aria and Legolas didn't seem to go together. It wasn't even a case of opposites attract—it was like trying to pair peanut butter with mayonnaise. The more Jane thought about it, the more she became convinced that the two Elves really weren't destined for a romantic relationship.

"But how can I know for sure?" Jane asked herself. "I thought I knew what I was doing when I wrote Aria and that's clearly not the case. How can I be sure that I'm making the right call?"

It was a question that echoed ceaselessly in her head until sleep finally came and pulled her from consciousness.

*

Jane did not feel alert enough to continue on their quest when morning came. She had half a mind to ask Aragorn to postpone their departure by another day or so. Hell, she had half a mind to ask Aragorn what _he_ thought about Aria's love life. Jane considered both options for a moment and promptly decided that it would be best if she just kept her mouth shut.

Their departure from Lothlorien was not complete without a whole lot of ceremony, all of which Jane felt as though she could have easily slept through. Lady Galadriel surprised her with a gift—as a nonmember of the Fellowship, Jane had assumed she would be excluded from the gift giving ceremony. Her gift was practical—a slim and elegant dagger that was easily concealed at her waist. It was beautifully crafted and there was some sort of inscription at the hilt that Jane thought must be Elvish. She was also outfitted with a new cloak, one of the ones with the leaf brooch and the specially made cloth that helped the wearer blend in with their surroundings.

Aria was also given a gift—however, it was not the gift that Jane had expected her to get. In her fan fic, Jane had planned for Aria to receive a sword—the sort of sword that had a long history behind it, the sort of sword that required research to write about properly. Jane briefly wondered if her as yet incomplete research caused Galadriel to give Aria the necklace. It was a beautiful necklace, but it was definitely the kind of necklace that required a particular wardrobe to go with it—the silver curlicues and the pearly stones weren't particularly suited for the simple tunic that Aria wore. Galadriel fastened the slim chain around Aria's slender neck and said something quietly in Elvish. Aria nodded and placed her hand to the pendant, which hung right by her heart.

There were more words and more gifts and Jane found herself pinching the inside of her forearm to keep herself awake. Finally, it was decided that the company would leave, at which point Jane remembered that they would be using boats, which considerably dampened her spirits.

Jane had never been particularly good at water sports. When she was younger and took swimming lessons at the park district, she was always the kid who swallowed too much water and ended up throwing up in the pool filter. She had been kayaking once and had managed to tip her kayak three times in the course of twenty minutes. She did not feel especially confident about the upcoming boat trip.

Jane would be traveling in the fourth boat with Aria and the rest of the supplies that didn't quite fit in the other boats. She boarded the small boat with much trepidation, immediately disliking the way it rocked beneath her feet. She quickly sat down on the little bench, gripping the edges of the boat with white knuckles. Aria sprang lightly and gracefully into the seat in front of her, scarcely causing the boat to wobble.

They finally set off down the river, Jane gripping her oar as though her life depended on it. Aria was lightly chatting about something—Jane was concentrating too much on keeping her balance to pay much attention. When she finally felt as though she could speak without somehow inadvertently capsizing the boat, they had been gone from Lothlorien for nearly an hour.

"Er…how long do you expect we'll be on the river?" she asked Aria tentatively.

"Probably a week," said Aria offhandedly.

Jane suppressed a groan. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

*

On her first day on the river, Jane learned that she was prone to seasickness.

It wasn't until she had been on land for a few moments that she noticed the queasy feeling in her stomach. She felt the color drain from her cheeks. She took a deep breath and willed her stomach to remain calm.

"Are you ill?" asked Aragorn.

"I don't have my sea legs yet," replied Jane.

"River legs," corrected Pippin. Jane gave a weak grin.

"Sit down for a moment, it'll get better," suggested Merry with the air of a seasoned expert on the matter.

"You seemed well-informed," commented Aria. "I thought it was said that hobbits disliked the water."

Merry scoffed. "Not all hobbits, my lady. You'll find that the Brandybucks have an affinity for water."

Pippin snorted dismissively. "_Brandybucks_. Psh."

"We're related, Pip," Merry reminded him cheerily.

Dinner was unusually quiet that evening. Clearly, everyone there wished they were back in the comfort of Lothlorien.

"Come, let's have a story," Aria finally suggested, breaking the silence. Her eyes fell on Jane. "Jane, you've yet to tell a story. Indulge us, won't you?"

"Er, well, I'm not much of a storyteller," Jane said.

"Oh, Jane, don't be shy," cajoled Aria.

"Really—"

"You're rather overdue—everyone else has had a turn."

"No, really, I'm not—"

"Besides, we've heard all of Aragorn's stories," added Pippin.

"You would be very old indeed if you had heard all of my stories, Master Took," said the Ranger wryly. Pippin waved a hand dismissively.

"Well, we've heard a fair number at any rate."

"I would very much like to hear one of your stories, Miss Baker," stated Sam. Jane felt her resolve weaken significantly.

"Jane, really, you can't say no now," urged Aria.

Jane sighed. There wasn't much of an opportunity to back out now, not with Sam looking so much like an eager puppy dog.

"All right, give me a moment to think."

She tried to quickly sort through possible stories in her mind, searching for one that would be appropriate for her audience. Her mind rested on an old standby: Shakespeare. Surely it wouldn't be as beautiful as the original prose, but all she needed was a plot that didn't involve robots or any other modern inventions. Yes, Shakespeare would do.

She cleared her throat tentatively.

"Er. So, imagine, if you will, a very…a very beautiful and rugged countryside very far from here," she began. "It is very…temperate. The winters are…mild and the…er…the summers are cool. This place is called Scotland."

Jane's eyes flicked over her audience, who were listening politely, although not very raptly. She swallowed nervously before continuing.

"Now…imagine a very…a very stormy night. The kind where…where the thunder and lightning crash so loudly that it makes your ears ache and you're certain that the sky will crack down the middle. Quite suddenly and silently, three old women appear. They are ancient and weathered as stone. These women are witches and they will begin our story…"

Jane found that as she went on, her pauses became less frequent and her words came more surely. She found herself becoming involved in the story—the awakening of Macbeth's treacherous ambition, Lady Macbeth's spiraling descent into madness, the inevitable end.

Finally, Jane reached the bloody conclusion of her tale—Macbeth was dead and Malcolm made king. She paused and listened to ensuing silence, wondering if it was in approval or not. Her mouth had gone dry and she now reached for her canteen.

"Wonderful, Jane," declared Aria before anyone could speak. "I've never heard that before—where did you hear it?"

"Oh! Er…well, I er…my father," she lied quickly, mentally apologizing to the Bard. "He…er…often invented stories to amuse us."

"That gave me chills," said Sam. "With all that talk of murder and deceit."

"But it turned out all right in the end," stated Frodo.

"Not without murder," mumbled Sam.

"_I_ liked it very much," declared Pippin. "Madmen make for the best stories."

"He was a damn fool," growled Gimli. "Heeding the counsel of witches."

"Maybe it was his fate?" replied Jane reflexively. Too many college level English courses had embedded that tendency in her mind. She flushed, slightly embarrassed as the Dwarf looked at her skeptically.

"And what do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Er…well…perhaps…perhaps he would have done it anyway," she said lamely. "He was rather ambitious by nature…if the witches hadn't appeared, perhaps he would have thought of it on his own. If he had free will, then he didn't have to follow the witches' prophecy. He could have just gone on with his life. The fact that he didn't suggests that there must have been a…stronger force, like fate at work."

The others were looking at her curiously. She cleared her throat.

"My…er…my father often discussed this…" She trailed off and tried to change the subject. "I suppose it's a rather depressing story, but he could be quite funny as well."

"You know more of your father's stories?" asked Frodo.

"Well—"

"Why then, we must have another tomorrow evening!" declared Aria.

"Well, I…I mean, I might not remember…" protested Jane.

"You'll have all day tomorrow," pointed out Aria. "Rowing makes for good thinking."

"I…er…"

"It's been a long time since I've heard new stories," said Legolas. Jane caught his eye and quickly looked downward. There was a cryptic signal in his gaze, a slight suspicion that made her uncomfortable.

"I would very much like to hear one of his funny stories, Miss Baker," pressed Sam.

Jane thought that it would be impossible for anyone with a heart to resist the eager puppy dog eyes of Samwise Gamgee. In the end, she conceded, and fell asleep that night attempting to remember everything she could about _Much Ado About Nothing_.

*

Boat travel became easier for Jane with every passing day on the river, although it seemed to her that the improvements were marginal at best. Merry and Pippin were sweetly encouraging throughout the entire ordeal, which made it seem a little easier.

Her arms and shoulders ached from constantly rowing, but Jane tried to tell herself that such pain was good for her, that it would help improve her swordsmanship. When that tactic failed, she tried to console herself with the fact that perhaps her arms would look a little better after this endeavor.

One of the drawbacks to travel by boat was that it severely limited conversation. You could talk fairly easily to the people in your boat, but trying to have a conversation with anyone in the other three boats was hardly convenient or even easy. Jane settled with talking to Aria, though she noted that it was Aria that did most of the talking. Jane didn't mind so much—it was good background noise and made time pass a little more easily.

With the trip down the river came the realization that Boromir's days were numbered. Although Jane did not consider herself close to the man, she was slightly saddened and sobered by this realization. He was familiar and nice enough, even if the Ring had already corrupted him. His imminent death also seemed too close to Gandalf's disappearance (Jane found herself unable to say that the wizard had died while knowing that he would reunite with them shortly). All the same, it seemed too soon to lose a member of the Fellowship, this time permanently. Perversely, Jane found herself wishing that the trip down the river could take just a little bit longer.

She had, of course, briefly entertained the idea of preventing Boromir's death. This was not so straightforward as saving Gandalf had appeared—the upcoming battle would be too irregular, too frenzied for Jane to be able to fathom exactly where her comrades would be. It was not the simple matter of just holding on a little longer or waiting that extra minute before turning your back on the beast. Although the Balrog was considerably more dangerous, Jane found that the Uruk-Hai who would kill Boromir was considerably more difficult to stop with any kind of straightforward plan.

And if that particular Uruk-Hai was dispatched of beforehand, who's to say that Boromir would not meet his end at the blade of another? Despite her musings to Gimli on _Macbeth_, Jane didn't like to think about fate too much. However, she did believe that there was some sort of strategy behind Boromir's death—Tolkien killed him off for a reason, whether to illustrate the all-consuming power of the Ring or so that the Fellowship could break on the shores of the Anduin. Either reason was possible and although the preventability of the situation loomed tantalizingly before her, she was reluctant, if not unable, to try and alter things. There was also the warning from Roger Morton—try not to meddle too much with the plot.

Jane's retellings of Shakespearean plays were in high demand for most of the journey down the river. Trying to remember the specifics of different plays saved her from brooding about Boromir too much. However, she soon found herself running low on material—she enjoyed Shakespeare, but she was no scholar and had only read a handful of plays. After _Much Ado About Nothing_, she moved on to _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and then _Twelfth Night_. She remembered only the bare bones of _Love's Labours Lost_ and was relieved when Merry requested a darker story. She obliged him with _Hamlet_, which Sam also described as too dark for his tastes. Mercifully, he agreed to tell a story the following night, which Jane hoped would relieve her of her duties for a while, as she was quickly running out of material.

However, as it turned out, Sam would not get the chance to tell his story.

The day they passed the Argonath, Jane knew they were coming to the end of their river journey. Some time later, they stopped on the western shore. It was familiar and it made Jane's stomach drop unpleasantly. The fight in Moria still seemed all too recent—she was not looking forward to revisiting the horror of battle.

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats, and continue on foot," said Aragorn once the party had reacquainted themselves with land. "We approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh yes?" said Gimli, clearly agitated. "Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks? And after that, it gets even better! Festering stinking marshlands, as far as the eye can see!"

Jane had to admit that this did not sound terribly pleasant.

"That is our road," said Aragorn unapologetically. "I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

"Recover my—" sputtered Gimli angrily.

"We should leave now," said Legolas quietly, looking clearly agitated.

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness," replied Aragorn quietly. Jane pretended to be very interested in the river, so as not to be caught eavesdropping.

"It is not the eastern shore that worries me." Legolas' voice had gone low and was slightly difficult to hear, especially with Gimli grumbling in the background. "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near. I can feel it…"

"He's right," added Aria quietly. "I have seen it as well. Aragorn, this place is perilous."

"We will keep our course," said Aragorn resolutely.

"Where's Frodo?" Merry asked, effectively halting the rest of the conversation.

Jane's stomach dropped. Things would go drastically downhill after this.

Chaos seemed to break out after that— Aragorn cursed under his breath and immediately darted off into the woods. Sam was the next to follow. Merry and Pippin took off running in one direction, Gimli the other. Legolas listened intently before running the same way Aragorn had gone. Aria followed him and Jane, having absolutely no idea what to do, followed Aria.

Jane was glad that Legolas and Aria seemed to know where they were going because she sure didn't. The woods seemed familiar and strange at the same time and Jane was infinitely grateful that she did not have to navigate through it on her own. Left to her own devices, she was fairly certain she'd miss the battle entirely.

They ran for a while—Legolas and Aria gracefully and fluidly. Jane was hardly as elegant, but she managed to keep both Elves in her line of vision, which she considered an accomplishment.

Legolas suddenly stopped running and crouched behind a tree, his eyes sharp and alert. Aria was quick to follow. Jane caught up to them panting and was fairly convinced that she had missed something because she could not sense anything wrong.

As her breathing slowed, she heard it—the sound of many feet crashing through underbrush and pounding against the ground. There were a few snarls and growls, all of which were very clearly not of human origin.

Jane felt her stomach rise in her throat. Perhaps it wasn't too late to go hide in a tree.

A voice suddenly rose, shouting as the sharp ring of metal striking metal pierced through the air. Aria and Legolas suddenly sprang forward, their weapons already drawn. Jane took a deep breath and followed clumsily after.

Upon actually seeing the Uruk-Hai, Jane was surprised to feel a surge of pity. They were hideous. It was clear they were created for a purpose and Jane knew that it would be impossible for any of them to deviate from that—a friendly Uruk-Hai would still be visually terrifying. It seemed terribly unfair—to create a sentient being who had little choice but to follow the dark path that lay ahead of him.

But then a few of them caught a glimpse of Jane and the two Elves and started advancing, weapons drawn and Jane was forced to stop musing on the ethics that were abused in the creation of Uruk-Hai.

"All right. Here goes nothing," she thought grimly to herself as she unsheathed her sword.

It became immediately apparent to Jane that this battle would be much more challenging than Moria. She dispatched of her first Uruk-Hai fairly quickly, but there was one right behind it and after that, another. Sometimes there were two or three at once, which she could handle if she were backed up against something solid, like a tree or a stone from one of the ruins. If she wasn't, she found running away to be a fairly effective tactic. She was not as fast as either Aria or Legolas, but she was considerably lighter than the Uruk-Hai and able to change direction much more swiftly.

She took much more of a beating than she did in Moria—she was often thrown to the ground, hit or kicked. She could feel bruises forming on her bruises. About midway through battle, she acquired a jagged gash on her forearm during a particularly drawn out battle with a particularly determined Uruk-Hai. She had failed to block one of his blows properly and his weapon tore through her shirtsleeve and sliced into her arm. She hissed in pain and the Uruk-Hai hissed back in some sort of sadistic pleasure. She saw an opening just then and drove her sword hard into his gut.

Try as she might, Jane would never become used to the sound and feeling of a weapon—of her weapon—ripping through flesh.

Jane had been under the impression that the skirmish would take twenty minutes, at most. But there seemed to be a never-ending supply of Uruk-Hai and she found the entire exchange dragged out much longer. Only the still corpses on the ground indicated they had made any kind of progress

She was again considering running and hiding in a tree when a low bass note broke through the clanging of weaponry.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas shouted.

"Boromir!"

Once again, Jane found herself chasing after Legolas and Aria. Aragorn had gone on ahead. Gimli was close behind her, shouting incomprehensibly. It occurred to her that she could not quite remember when the Dwarf or the Ranger joined the skirmish. This was another thing she disliked about battle—the way it fiddled with her memory as though she had been in some sort of trance.

It seemed to take an awful long time to get to that little clearing. The frequent run-ins with Uruk-Hai did not make Jane's pace more efficient. By the time she found the others, Boromir was lying still on the forest floor, Aragorn kneeling beside him.

Aria was in tears, which both irritated and confused Jane. Aria had clearly liked Gandalf much more than Boromir and had not been this distressed when he fell. Jane wondered if this was merely a ploy to get Legolas' attention. However, she didn't get much more time to consider it, as Aria caught sight of her and waved her over.

"He is dead, then," said Jane quietly. Aria heaved pretty sob as Legolas nodded.

Dead. It was strange to say it. Jane had, of course, known that it was going to happen. But it felt stranger this time. She had known the man—not well, certainly, but she had known him more than a character on the screen. She looked up at the sky and worried her lower lip with her teeth.

There was then the awkward matter of transporting his body back to the river where they had left the boats. A makeshift stretcher was hastily constructed out of fallen branches and cloaks. Jane did what she could to help, but she tried to avoid the body itself as much as possible. She had been to her share of open casket wakes and had always been slightly unnerved. Boromir was no exception.

They made the journey back to their campsite in relatively good time, despite the awkward load they carried. One of the boats was missing, as Jane knew it would be. If she looked carefully enough across the river, she could glimpse the two hobbits starting off into the woods. She wanted to shout "Good luck!" or some other kind of sendoff, but it seemed slightly inappropriate. Instead, she gazed across the river quietly. She would not see Frodo and Sam again until the story was nearly at its end.

Boromir was neatly and ceremoniously laid out in one of the remaining boats. Aragorn was the one to push it out into open water. It rode steadily with the current, finally disappearing over the waterfall.

"Hurry! Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore!" Legolas was preparing one of the remaining boats. Aria had occupied herself with a similar task with one of the other boats.

"We haven't got time!" she exclaimed. "Jane, hurry up!"

Jane bit her lip and looked to the Ranger. Legolas stepped away from the shore, seeming to understand.

"You mean not to follow them," said he quietly. Color rose in Aria's cheeks.

"Are you mad?" she shouted, stalking away from the boat and angrily approaching the Ranger.

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," said Aragorn simply. Aria's mouth formed into a thin, tight line.

"You would abandon them to death!" she snapped angrily. Jane quickly approached the Elf and placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder.

"This is their path, Aria," she said quietly. The Elf looked at her angrily.

"We swore to protect them!"

"The Fellowship couldn't last indefinitely—you knew this."

Jane was guessing on this last part, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Aria was still visibly upset, but she relaxed a little.

"Then it has all been in vain," said Gimli, his gravelly voice unusually morose. "The Fellowship has failed."

Jane was all too happy to hand over the morale-boosting mantle to Aragorn. She glanced at Legolas. He was regarding her carefully and Jane regretted using the phrase "This is their path."

Luckily, she didn't think the ensuing chase after Merry and Pippin would really give the Elf much time to question her further on it.

"We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death," Aragorn was now saying. "Not while we have strength left. Leave all that can be spared behind. Let's hunt some Orc."

"Yes!" exclaimed Gimli. Aragorn's speech appeared to have convinced Aria, as she was quick to follow him as he ran into the wood. Jane went quickly after her to avoid Legolas' gaze. She knew the following journey would be long and exhausting. She had been dreading it, but she was ready.

She was also incredibly grateful that she'd had the foresight to join the cross-country running team in college.

*

A/N: Upcoming chapters are going to be considerably more exciting than this one. At least I think so.


End file.
